Elemental Needs
by Eideann
Summary: Sequel to Invisible Chains. Skeletor kidnaps Duncan to help him carry out the ferret’s plan. Adam’s sword is lost in the fight. Without He-Man, how can they stop the Lord of Snake Mountain . . . and an evil that dates back millennia? Rated for adult sits.
1. Chapter 1

This is the sequel to _A Siege of Assassins _and _Invisible Chains_. It is a good bit longer than either of them, and I will try to post a chapter a week for the foreseeable future.

For anyone who has not yet read the stories listed above, they are not necessarily _required_ to understand this story, but it wouldn't hurt. For anyone who has, but for whom it has been a long time, I might recommend refreshing your memory.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Adam, Man-at-Arms and Adam's bodyguard, Raon, climbed aboard the wind raider to head home. The other bodyguard on duty, Quick-Wing, would fly beside them, watching for threats. Looking up at his mentor, Adam said, "I think that went really well."

"Yes, I agree. We'll make a statesman of you yet."

"Not too soon, I hope," Adam said, grinning.

It was a beautiful day, and Adam enjoyed the ride over the Sands of Time. The air was crisp and cool at their elevation, and Duncan, always a good pilot, managed to avoid most of the turbulence that often made overflying the desert so trying.

A sudden hiss from the engine drew Adam's attention immediately, and Duncan started muttering. "What's going on?" Adam asked.

"I'm not sure. I think one of the power relays is failing." There was a sharp popping sound, and the engine died abruptly. "Blast! I'm going to try to glide in."

Duncan aimed for one of the many dunes that drifted and shifted form so frequently in this landscape, but two griffins suddenly emerged from behind it, changing the situation drastically from a simple crash landing to an ambush. Beastman and Trap Jaw flew toward them, and Adam could see three more griffins coming out of hiding further along the desert floor.

Adam reached for his comlink. "Adam to masters, we're under attack in the Sands of Time." He gave their coordinates hurriedly, reading them off the instrument panel. Behind him, he could hear Raon calling as well.

"Adam! Raon!" Man-at-Arms yelled over the sound of the wind. "We'll have to abandon the raider!"

As if to emphasize his point, a blast of laser fire hit the wing next to Adam, causing it to splinter and fall away. All three passengers leapt out of the machine just before it spiraled into the sand. Adam landed, rolling to his feet, eyes immediately searching for the best place to hide to change into He-Man. Something struck him from behind, knocking him to the ground. He turned to struggle away from his attacker, only to find that it was Raon.

"Stay down!" the bodyguard commanded, rising up on his knees to scan the area, blaster out and ready to strike at any who attacked his prince.

"Raon!" Adam cried. "Let me up!" He tried to pull himself to his feet, looking for somewhere to make his transformation out of sight of enemies and friends alike. He'd managed it on occasions in the past, and stoically endured the lectures from both his father and Raon. Necessity had to take precedence over comfort and reputation, as always.

Duncan was a good forty feet away, beset by Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw, and holding his own despite the odds. Beastman hovered on a griffin above them, ready to change the odds if the opportunity arose. Clawful and Whiplash kept diving at Adam and Raon, but as far as Adam could see, they weren't trying to accomplish anything more than keeping them pinned down.

"Your highness, let me do my job!" Raon exclaimed, shoving him back down.

"We have to help Duncan!" Adam yelled, yanking himself free of Raon's restraining hands. Cursing, Raon lunged for him. In the resultant struggle, Adam lost his footing on the sliding sand. He'd just drawn his sword when he fell, and it went flying out of his immediate reach.

"Man-at-Arms can take care of himself, Adam," Raon said. "It's my job to make sure you're safe."

Adam watched helplessly, pinned chest-down to the sand, as Duncan fought with his two opponents. Man-at-Arms was cornered against a dune by the pair, holding Trap Jaw off with his hand cannon and fending off blows from Tri-Klops' sword with his mace.

Movement in the sky caught Adam's attention and he saw that Quick-Wing was trying to reach them, but the riderless griffins harried him as he flew, preventing him from making much progress. Adam looked back at Man-at-Arms just in time to see a blast from Trap Jaw's laser arm damage Duncan's hand cannon.

If Adam could just get away from his over-zealous guard and become He-Man, fighting them off would be easy, but Raon was determined to keep him safe, whatever the cost. He struggled unavailingly against the pressure holding him to the ground.

Lunging desperately, Man-at-Arms struck out with his mace and knocked Tri-Klops back, but Trap Jaw followed up his advantage. Transforming his arm from a laser gun into a metal pincer, he slammed Duncan face first to the ground and held him there, the ends of the pincer digging deep into the sand. Duncan scrabbled at the shifting surface beneath him but could find no purchase.

"Quick-Wing!" called Raon. "Get down here!" The Andrenid finally made it to the ground beside them, but with the way the griffins were swooping it was clearly not safe for him to try and fly Adam out.

Adam craned his neck to look up at Raon. "Someone's got to help Duncan, Raon! They're not after me. Can't you see that?" Quick-Wing fired on Whiplash's griffin as he soared a little too near.

"Stay down, Adam," Raon muttered, seeming to look in all directions at once. Adam stretched his arm desperately towards his sword, but it had fallen down slope of him and he couldn't do much more than cascade more sand over the top of it.

Red feet landed inches from Adam's reaching hand, sending sand flying into his face. Adam looked up and saw Clawful standing over him. Raon seized the back of Adam's shirt and hauled him backwards, out of the crustacean's easy reach. Drawing his own mace, he parried Clawful's attempt to knock him out of the way. Quick-Wing took up a defensive stance on Adam's other side where Whiplash had landed. Having landed awkwardly on his rear end, his own weapon now hopelessly out of reach, Adam was forced to put up with being guarded.

He looked across to where Man-At-Arms was still fighting to get loose from Trap Jaw's pincer and saw Tri-Klops struggle to his feet and kick him in the head. His body went limp and Adam watched in horror as Tri-Klops pulled out some kind of metal contraption and bound his hands securely. "Raon, Duncan's in trouble!"

Raon had his hands full, however, keeping Clawful off them both. Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw stepped back, and Adam realized he was watching history repeat itself. Beastman's griffin dove in and caught Duncan in its claws, then rose into the sky, winging swiftly away. "Duncan!" Adam cried, leaping forward, but Raon shoved him back.

"We've got what we came for!" Tri-Klops yelled in his gravelly voice.

"And we're about to have company!" Trap Jaw added. Clawful and Whiplash both disengaged abruptly. Whiplash turned immediately to leap astride his griffin. Clawful jumped back from Raon, but the glint of steel in the sand at his feet caught his eye. Bending, he seized Adam's sword, then caught hold of his griffin and clambered aboard as they soared up into the sky.

Adam watched in horror as quite possibly the stupidest of Skeletor's minions carried the Power Sword away to Snake Mountain. Several sky sleds and a windraider flew in to land nearby, but their rescue had come minutes too late. Adam shoved Raon out of his way and went to meet Teela who was just landing her sky sled.

"Adam!" she cried, dismounting. "You're all right!"

"Yeah," Adam said sourly. "They weren't after me." Mekanek and Manny ran up to join them with Ram-Man close behind. Too late, Adam thought.

Teela was looking around. "Where's my father?" she asked. Raon and Quick-Wing had just arrived behind him, standing guard, though against what now, Adam wasn't sure. Mekanek extended his neck to look for Duncan, and Man-E-Faces shifted into monster mode to try and sniff him out. Raon and Quick-Wing looked around as well, and Adam realized that they hadn't seen what happened.

"No, no, stop," he said. "You won't find him." They all turned to face him, looking confused. Adam sighed. "As I said, they weren't after me." Teela's face drained of color. "Beastman's griffin carried him away just before they broke off."

Teela looked off towards the direction of Snake Mountain. "With the lead they've got now, we'd never catch up in time," she said.

"I know." And with the sword in the hands of Skeletor, He-Man wasn't going to be coming to the rescue.

"We need to get you back to the palace, Prince Adam," Raon said. Adam turned a furious glare on his bodyguard, whose expression remained stoic.

"Yeah. Let's go. And let's hope that Skeletor is requesting a ransom." Though if that's what he wanted, why had he grabbed Man-At-Arms? Why not Adam himself?

"What do you mean?" Teela demanded.

"If he doesn't want a ransom, then what does he want your father for?" Adam asked grimly.

No one made any answer to his rhetorical question. As Adam clambered into the wind raider, followed by his bodyguards, it was a sober party that took off for the royal palace.

* * *

Duncan awakened to wind whistling past his ears, whipping his hair madly about his face and head. His eyes watered as he opened them to find himself dangling sideways in the claws of one of Beastman's griffins high above the Sands of Fire. His helmet had fallen off at some point, and his head ached abominably. His arms were bound tightly behind his back, in a position that made his hand cannon inaccessible. Not that it was worth much right now anyway. The last thing he remembered was fighting Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops in the Sands of Time. He hoped that Raon had kept Adam from being captured.

Before he'd had time to think much past that, the griffin released him. He hurtled downward but he could not see toward what. He curled to protect his head and landed heavily on a relatively flat surface. Rolling to his feet, he looked around him. He was alone high atop Snake Mountain, but within seconds Whiplash and Trap Jaw landed beside him. They seized him from each side and made sure he was bound securely.

"Come on, you!" Trap Jaw said.

Duncan didn't speak, but allowed them to hustle him inside the halls of the enemy fortress. He didn't see Adam, so perhaps it was all right.

They threw him ahead of them into a room. With some effort, he kept his feet, but Trap Jaw followed him in and tripped him anyway. Then, paradoxically, he yanked him back up. "On your feet, Man-At-Arms," he growled, yanking him into position. Duncan heard the sound of a mechanical transformation, then felt the muzzle of Trap Jaw's laser cannon against the back of his head. "Don't move."

Whiplash untied him, then stripped him of his armor and his boots and searched him roughly. "He's clean," he said. Duncan was now attired in little more than his undershirt and the pants he wore beneath his armor.

"Good." The harsh voice of Tri-Klops came from the doorway behind him. "Tie his arms again and bring him."

Whiplash jerked his arms into a viciously uncomfortable position behind his back and fastened his forearms into a pair of cuffs that held them parallel along his lower back, placing horrendous pressure on his shoulders and the muscles across his chest. Then he and Trap Jaw grabbed his upper arms again and marched him through the halls. "Don't you have anything to say?" Trap Jaw demanded. Duncan kept his mouth shut. Silence gave away nothing.

The room they took him to was somehow plusher than he'd expected. Stone walls, yes, and chains, but also a chair upholstered in purple velvet, a chaise lounge off in a corner, and hangings of lavender brocade. The floor was covered by a thick woven rug of various shades ranging from purple to palest mauve. This didn't seem quite like Skeletor's milieu. Trap Jaw leered at him as they entered, but Duncan chose not to speculate on the meaning behind his look.

They removed the binding on his arms and forced his wrists up and into the manacles that dangled from chains in the wall. Oddly – and alarmingly – they positioned him so that he faced the wall. Bending, they placed shackles around his ankles as well. Chuckling, they left the room, and he heard the door shut behind them. Finally alone, he assessed his situation. On the plus side, he hadn't seen Adam at all yet, so perhaps it was safe to assume that Adam had gotten safely away. On the negative. . .

He looked up at the chains around his wrists. The manacles were solidly constructed, and their connection to the chain wouldn't budge. The connection of the chain to the wall, however, looked a little weak. He gripped the chain in his hand and pulled experimentally.

A low, sultry laugh behind him made him stiffen. He hadn't considered that there might be other entrances under the hangings. _Stupid, Duncan, stupid._ "Already trying to leave?" Evil-Lyn said in a mocking voice that grew closer as she approached with silent footsteps. A finger traced the curve of his back and he jerked away. "You are being unfriendly, aren't you?"

"What reason have I to be friendly?" he asked in a reasonable tone.

"Oh, just think of the benefits, Duncan," she purred, coming up right behind him. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his back. "I may call you Duncan, may I not? Man-At-Arms just seems so stuffy."

"I prefer Man-At-Arms."

"Oh, well, you can be stuffy if you like. I like Duncan." So saying she placed her hands on his shoulder blades, tracing the shape of his muscles with her fingers. He had no room to pull away, so he suffered her touch, gritting his teeth. "I was right. Under all that armor, you do have a nice build. Tri-Klops said it was probably padded." The thought that Skeletor's minions had been discussing the shape of his body, of all things, made Duncan's flesh crawl.

She withdrew her hands and he wondered what she was doing. He turned his head to see if he could peer over his shoulder at her, but a flash of silver made him freeze. She pressed the flat of the blade he'd caught a glimpse of against the skin at the nape of his neck. What was the witch up to?

"Oh, don't worry, Duncan, I have no interest whatsoever in cutting any of this magnificent flesh." She pulled the fabric of his undershirt away from his skin and started slicing it away. "I thought it might be wiser, all in all, not to unchain you to remove your shirt. You're so very strong." The taunting note in her voice made him want to break things. When his shirt lay in tatters on the floor, she ran her nails lightly down his back.

He flinched away from the intimate touch. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, leaning up close to his ear, her breath warm and moist against the lobe. "Can't you guess?" He didn't respond verbally, but she laughed merrily as he turned his head away. She walked away, still chuckling, and Duncan wondered what she was planning to do. "I must say," she said. "You make an attractive wall hanging. Almost as good a decoration as He-Man would make."

Duncan couldn't control his reaction. He clenched his fists and growled at the thought of He-Man – Adam – in Evil-Lyn's grasp again.

"What, lover, jealous?" she exclaimed coyly, walking back up behind him.

"What did you call me?" he asked, his voice breaking.

She reached up and gave his ponytail a tweak. "You heard me, Duncan. But since you're being so very stubborn, I think I had better take some precautions." He felt something cold on his back and he jerked in surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"Painting. Don't move. I'd have to start over, and this ink is very penetrating. It would take several layers of skin to remove it."

"But why?"

"That would be telling. Don't be tiresome, or I'll have to knock you out."

Duncan saw little point in fighting against this artistic endeavor, so he remained still. After all, He-Man should be arriving any time now to get him out of this, and it wouldn't do anyone any good for him to have the skin peeled off his back.

She spent quite some time on painting whatever sigils were required for the spell she was casting, then stepped back, blowing across his skin to dry the ink where it was still wet. Duncan twitched uneasily. He wished he could see what she was doing as she moved around the room. He turned his head, trying to see her. She picked up her staff and walked toward him. "Don't worry, soon you'll be free of those chains."

What did she mean? What kind of control did those glyphs give her over him? Or was she contemplating using that siren trick on him that she'd used so successfully on Ram-Man?

She pressed the staff against his back in three different places, and each of those portions of his skin crawled with energy for a few seconds after she removed the pressure. He didn't feel any different when she was done, but how was he to know if he would? She pointed the staff at each of the shackles in turn and released him. He turned to face her, rubbing his wrists. "What have you done to me?"

Taking a step back, she gazed at him interestedly, making Duncan uncomfortably aware of his comparative nudity. All he was wearing at this point was a thin pair of pants that were never meant to be seen. An expression of feline contentment came over her face as she stood there with her staff grounded, the crystal tip pointed toward the ceiling. Her hip was cocked, and her stance was relaxed, as if he posed no threat whatsoever.

After a moment, she deigned to answer his question. "Well, first of all, you now can't voluntarily leave Snake Mountain."

"What?" Duncan's jaw dropped. "You can't do that!"

She laughed at the shock in his face. "I can and I have."

"What if the whole place collapses?"

She shrugged lazily. "Let's just say I'd advise you to mention it if you see any structural defects." Duncan stared at her, horrified. "Second, you won't be able to attack me, no matter how hard you try." Duncan clamped his jaw shut. That certainly seemed like a sensible precaution just now. He wanted to wring her neck.

The way she put was intriguing, though. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Just you?"

"The fellows can take care of themselves." She looked him up and down. "Especially against a man without weapons or armor." Smirking, she added, "Or much in the way of clothes."

"And the third?" he asked, ignoring that last provocative comment.

"You'll learn more about the third glyph if I find need of it."

This made Duncan profoundly nervous, but he wasn't inclined to press the point. "So, now what?"

"Now?" The amusement in her eyes deepened, and her smile seemed to grow almost predatory. Duncan didn't know how to react. This whole scenario was completely unexpected. He'd been prepared to be taken before Skeletor, but being presented half-naked to Evil-Lyn left him wondering what in Eternia they were planning. "Now we have a pleasant conversation about your options."

Something in the way she looked at him as she said the word _options_ made Duncan look away in serious discomfort, but his surroundings didn't help any. The room was a peculiar mix of boudoir and dungeon. "What is this place?" he asked. He knit his brows and peered at the lounge down at the end of the room. He thought he could see the glint of chains at either end. He turned back to face her and found that she was watching him, a sly smile on her lips.

Arching an elegant eyebrow, she accepted the change of subject. "Sort of an audience chamber. I receive . . ." she paused, gazing archly at him, ". . . certain sorts of guests here." Having observed the appointments of the room, Duncan decided that there were things about Evil-Lyn and her 'guests' that he didn't want to know. From the pleased expression on her face, she was enjoying his discomfort. She reached out to take his hand, but he jerked it back, glaring at her. Giving him an amused look, she chuckled richly. "You, my dear man, are a bit jumpy. I was just going to lead you into the next room, since you dislike this one so much."

He raised his eyebrows. "Lead on," he said, gesturing mockingly.

Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded and turned away. On a whim, curious to see what would happen, he started to launch himself at her unprotected back, just to knock her down. He knew it was pointless. Even if he got out of this room, he doubted that he could get away. There were too many people between him and the unknown location of the exit. He bent his knees to jump forward, and just as he started to extend, all his joints locked up and he found he couldn't move. Because he'd been in the process of jumping, however, his balance was shifted too far forward for him to stay upright, so he fell with a crash to the floor, his shoulder knocking the purple chair askew. Paralyzed as he was, he could do nothing to catch himself.

Evil-Lyn turned and looked down where he lay motionless on the floor, still frozen in mid-motion. She squatted beside him and stroked his cheek. "Naughty boy," she murmured. "You just had to test your limits, didn't you?" His hair had come loose from its binding, and she brushed it back where it had fallen across his face. "Such an uncomfortable position. So humiliating." She stood, chuckling in that rich voice of hers. "I suppose it's time for you to learn the purpose of the third glyph." Duncan lay there at her feet, wondering just what was coming next. She spoke a word in a language he didn't recognize, it sounded like 'arwahl' or 'arlwahr' or something, but he wasn't in any condition to puzzle it out.

Pain shot from the small of his back throughout his body, following the path of his nervous system. Agonizing, searing pain that could not be ignored. It was as though his nerves were on fire. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it passed, leaving him sweaty and shaking, joints still locked in place. She walked around behind him, bent, and touched a finger to a spot just below his left shoulder blade. "Release," she said, and his joints relaxed. He lay limply for a moment, then pushed himself up to his knees, preparatory to standing. He stopped moving, however, when she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, standing in front of him. Under the pressure from her hands, he sank back to his haunches, breathing heavily. So that was the third glyph. There was a lingering, tingling pain in the skin at the small of his back.

"You know?" she said, leaning over him. "I quite like you in this position." Irritated, he started to pull away, but she gripped more tightly, digging her nails into his flesh. "Don't," she said with a warning note in her voice. He subsided reluctantly, and she walked around him, stroking her fingers across his chest as she went. When she was behind him, she pulled his shoulders back so that he leaned against her body. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore her proximity, the feel of her against the bare skin of his back. "It's interesting," she said in a thoughtful voice. "When I was at the palace, it was an ideal situation for espionage." He stiffened. This, too, was an unexpected tack for her to take. "Because no one suspected the simpering Lady Asala of anything more than a big mouth, I had no difficulty reading the surface thoughts of nearly everyone I ran across."

Duncan felt his heart start beating faster. Had she 'read' Adam? No. If Skeletor knew Adam's secret, something would have happened by now. Since Evil-Lyn's protracted visit to the palace, the skull-faced monstrosity had taken possession of Adam twice. He wouldn't have returned him the second time if he'd known that Adam was He-Man.

Evil-Lyn's hands stroked slowly up his neck and she began toying with his hair as she talked. "I couldn't read you. I still can't, though I suspect that with enough time and effort, I could, but the process would leave you a babbling madman." Duncan clenched his fists at his sides and tried not to react, but madness was among the few things that terrified him. The lack of self-control . . .

"It wasn't very profitable, all in all," she went on musingly. "Randor could think of nothing but that boy of his, the queen was worried about both of them and what potentially useful thoughts she did have were all about economic details that I couldn't take advantage of either as Lady Asala or in my own form. And those masters of yours are a singularly self-centered lot. Admittedly, they were all concerned about the prince, but Mekanek was preoccupied with the death of his own son, the _actor_ couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of failure, and . . . well . . . I won't sport with you on the topic of Ram-Man's lack of thought." Her hands continued to tease at his hair and stroke his scalp.

Not very many weeks ago, he remembered giving Adam a lecture on how to behave if he was ever taken prisoner again. "Cooperate. Don't antagonize your captor. Make them like you so it will be harder for them to kill you." Maybe that had been bad advice, he reflected, as he allowed Evil-Lyn to caress him.

"And then there's 'the callow Prince Alan,' as Skeletor calls him." Duncan stiffened. Adam? Her hands paused and she leaned around him to get a sideways look at his face. "You all seem to have a very sensitive spot where the prince is concerned. I'm beginning to wonder why." Duncan bit back an irritated retort. "In any case, I couldn't read him either. Some people are just born with shields like his. It would take the power of the Elders to break into his head." Duncan closed his eyes, weak with relief, but he wondered when the Sorceress had placed such a shield on Adam, and why she hadn't bothered to tell him.

Evil-Lyn gave him a little shove forward and walked toward the wall opposite them. "Come along. Attractive you may be, but you need a bath."

Duncan paused in the process of getting to his feet. "A bath?" he asked dubiously. While he wanted to be clean, he wasn't sure what Evil-Lyn had in mind. He didn't believe for a moment that there was anything sexual in her attentions. This was all just a ploy to throw him off balance. That it was working irritated him mightly, but he strove not to reveal anything to her.

He might well have spared himself the effort. She laughed out loud at his hesitation. "There are three things to keep in mind, my dear Duncan," she said, crossing her arms sensually over her chest. "First, I am not Ovarn. Scars are ugly and unnecessary."

Duncan blinked at her. "Ovarn?" he asked uncertainly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Ovarn. The ferret? The idiot who kidnapped your prince and impersonated him? Him?" His eyes widened with realization. "You mean after all that you still didn't know his name?" She shook her head incredulously. "What's wrong with you people? Within minutes of his arrival at Snake Mountain he was spilling his guts to Skeletor."

"We don't use the more extreme methods of interrogation," Duncan said. "And his name is somewhat immaterial, really."

"Extreme methods?" She threw her head back and cackled. When she had vented her amusement, she added, "Skeletor looked at him sideways and he started babbling."

"Yes, but Skeletor is widely known for his exotic punishments."

"True," she said thoughtfully, a distant bitter look in her eyes that made him wonder what horror she was remembering. "So, back to my point. I am not Ovarn, I don't believe in injuring people quite so thoroughly."

"I see," Duncan said dryly, crossing his arms. "So a little pain is all right, but scars . . . ?"

"Are unsightly," she finished for him, smiling. "Second, much as I would prefer it, you're not here simply as a toy. You have a task to accomplish, and I suspect you'd be happier at your work if you were clean."

"A task?"

"Oh, you'll find out about that later. Skeletor will tell you when you're presented to him. But he doesn't like to be presented with dirty things."

"I see." Duncan had really begun to wonder what was keeping He-Man.

"And since I thought you'd prefer a bath to a quick rub through Beastman's ruff –"

"I beg your pardon!" Duncan exclaimed, revolted by the image.

She laughed. "Long story." Her eyes narrowed, and she was suddenly looking at him in a most unfriendly manner. "It concerns how Skeletor finally brought down the Mystic Wall." She pursed her lips and glared at him. "Third, you will be bathed, even if I have to knock you out and dunk you."

Duncan gestured again for her to lead on. She tilted her head suspiciously at him. "Trust me, I'm not going to attack you again," he said ironically. "Clearly, it's pointless." Nodding, she turned away and led him through a door that was behind one of the wall hangings.

* * *

To Be Continued . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Adam and Raon were silent in the rear seat of the wind raider for the whole of the return voyage. Man-E-Faces piloted the vehicle with Mekanek beside him. Quick-Wing flew as close beside them as he could without being caught in its wake. Mekanek kept turning in his seat to speak to Adam, but something in the prince's expression must have forestalled him, because he never said anything.

A cold rage had come over Adam. A bodyguard was supposed to keep him safe, yes, but somehow he didn't think he was supposed to throw his charge to the ground and hold him there while the others in his party were beaten senseless and carried away by villains. If that was a bodyguard's job, then he didn't want one.

When they landed, Adam jumped out and went to Teela, who was just landing her sky sled. "We'd better go see my father."

"You tell your father," Teela said. "I'll alert the rest of the guard."

Going to find his father proved unnecessary. Randor came rushing out into the courtyard and met Adam before he reached the door. His mother would no doubt be hurrying back from her diplomatic mission to Andrenos. Teela continued on to her self-appointed task as the king looked his heir up and down. "Are you all right, Adam?" he demanded.

"I'm fine, Father," Adam said, and the flat tone of his voice brought his father's eyes to his instantly. "We need to talk, in your office, right now."

Randor's eyes scanned the Adam's escort, and Adam knew he noted the missing man. "Where is Duncan?" he asked.

"Taken," Adam said shortly. "Your office, Father?"

Without another word, Randor led him into the palace. Once they were inside his office, Adam shut the door behind them, leaving his bodyguards firmly outside, and walked over to stand before his father's desk. Hands took hold of his shoulders from behind, turning him sharply. "Adam, what happened?"

Adam took a deep breath and controlled the angry torrent of words he wanted to pour out. Now was not the time to come across as the child his father still often seemed to think he was. "We need to rethink this whole bodyguard idea, Father, it's not going to work as it is."

"What happened?" Randor asked again.

Adam quickly outlined the events leading up to the ambush. "When I got to my feet and started to go to help Duncan," he said, hastily editing all references to He-Man out, "Raon knocked me flat and wouldn't let me up. When I tried to get up, he shoved me down again and I dropped my sword." Adam shook his head angrily. "As a result, I wound up weaponless between the two of them, watching Duncan get beaten unconscious, and then Beastman swooped in with a griffin to carry him off." His father blanched at that description, which reaction was why Adam hadn't softened it. "So now they have Man-At-Arms, and who knows what they plan to do with him." Adam crossed his arms. "And Clawful stole my sword." This passed unnoticed, as Adam had known it would. His father had no idea why Adam's sword was important, and Adam couldn't tell him without betraying his secret.

"Was it Duncan they were after?" Randor asked slowly.

Adam nodded. "The minute Beastman's griffin had him, Tri-Klops yelled, 'We got what we came for,' so, yeah, I think so."

"But, why?"

"I don't know." Adam thumped down into one of the chairs that faced his father's desk. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure," Randor said, looking troubled.

"Well, we could mass the troops and go after them," Adam said. "Isn't that what you did for me?"

"It's not that easy, Adam. You're the crown prince." Adam sat up straight, shocked by this response. "Don't worry about it, Adam, we won't leave him there."

"I'm glad to hear it," Adam said sarcastically. "Like I thought we were going to leave him there!" He rolled his eyes. "What about Raon?"

"Yes, Raon." Adam wondered why his father suddenly looked so embarrassed, but the king shook his head. "Now is not the time to deal with it. Send for the masters. We'll go fetch him."

"Good," Adam said, and they started out of the office.

"I don't suppose you know how to get hold of He-Man, do you?" the king asked, but Adam shook his head.

"Unfortunately, no," he said, wishing profoundly for his sword. "I could go to Grayskull and ask the Sorceress for help."

Randor looked thoughtful. "Someone must certainly be sent to tell her. But not you, Adam. It's not safe."

Adam blinked at him. "Father, you can't keep me locked up in the palace for the rest of time! And it's not likely that she'd let anyone else inside."

"I'll think about it. In the meantime, you'd best go get the masters and we'll have a council on how best to retrieve Duncan."

* * *

Duncan had not been able to persuade Evil-Lyn either to leave or to turn her back. He washed himself quickly and with icy dignity, refusing her suggestion that she scrub his back for him. "I think you've done enough to my back for one day," he muttered, ignoring her low laugh of amusement.

When he was done, he stood and reached for a towel. She held it just out of his reach and looked him up and down with interest. Reaching, he snatched the towel of her grasp, turned his back and dried himself off. She laughed delightedly, obviously pleased at having gotten his goat. Draping the fabric around his loins, he stepped out of the tub and glared at the giggling witch.

He looked at the spot where he'd dropped his pants only to find that they were no longer there. "So where are my pants?" he asked irritably.

"You won't be needing those, lover," she said in a low sultry voice.

He glared at her. "What? Am I supposed to walk around in a towel?"

She raised her staff and pointed it at him. Startled, he took a step back, but he was sure that she wasn't going to attack him. Why bathe him just to mutilate him afterwards? The blast of power seemed to blow past and around him rather than striking him. He looked down to find that he was now clothed.

"Is this it?" he asked, his voice very close to a growl. An amused laugh was his only answer. It took several slow, calming breaths for him to get himself under control. The garments she had provided were ludicrously brief. The top was a sleeveless shirt with a lower collar than he was used to, and loose shorts that came midway down his calf completed the outfit. Also, they were purple, the very same purple that Evil-Lyn habitually wore.

"Skeletor is waiting," she said. Duncan closed his eyes in dismay, dreading a meeting with the lord of Snake Mountain wearing this garb. "He gets irritable when he's kept waiting.

He gave her a sour look. "And we wouldn't want that, certainly."

"No," she said, her voice full of irony. "We certainly wouldn't want that." She leaned forward and walked her fingers up his arm. "Come along, now, Duncan. Or I might have to add a leash to that fetching ensemble."

* * *

"What?" Adam gazed furiously at his father. "What do you mean, I'm not going?" His father took a deep breath, and sighed, giving him the look that meant he was about to give five or six very good points to explain why Adam couldn't go on the rescue. Before he could forge on with his explanations, Adam continued. "I _am_ going! You can't leave me behind."

"Adam, be reasonable. You aren't coming." The masters who were preparing to accompany the king on this rescue mission drew aside to create the illusion that they weren't present for this family disagreement. Adam observed this irritably, thinking that he could have used some support. When Orko had been sent to inform the Sorceress of Duncan's situation, Adam had assumed that it was a foregone conclusion that he would help in the rescue.

"What's so unreasonable about wanting to help rescue Duncan?"

"I understand that you want to help, and I appreciate it. Duncan would appreciate it. But if you come, the masters will have to split their time between protecting you and searching for Duncan."

"I've been inside Snake Mountain more times than any of you," Adam declared. His father flinched back from the comment, and Adam wondered if he was ever going to get over the guilt he'd been wallowing in since autumn, when Adam had been abducted by the imposter mere months after having been carried off by Skeletor's minions. "I should go."

"Adam, you're not going," his father said firmly. "That's final."

Stratos stepped forward, looking uncomfortable. "My prince, your father is right. As heir to the throne, you must stay at the palace where you are safe."

"Safe?" Adam repeated incredulously. "At the palace?" Adam saw his father cringe back, but he couldn't stop himself. First Raon had knocked him to the ground, and now his father was going to restrict him to the palace complex again. He could see it in his eyes. His father wasn't going to let him do anything even remotely dangerous ever again! "So, if I weren't the heir to the throne it would be okay if I got killed? Or if I at least had a brother so there was a spare?" Furious as he was, Adam could see by his father's wounded expression that he had gone too far with that last remark. He mouthed silently for a moment, then said, "Fine." He turned and left, horrified that he'd said that to his father and embarrassed that he'd said it in front of the masters. Why was his father being so stubborn? Shadowed as always by a pair of bodyguards, he walked out onto a balcony and sat down glumly on the wall. His father's team took off and he watched them out of sight.

Nothing made sense anymore. Here he was, frustrated by the lack of the sword that made it possible for him to become the He-Man and equally frustrated by that same sword's existence. The sword and its secret made it impossible for Prince Adam to be a hero. _Or seem even marginally competent_, he thought morosely, picking at the lacing of his wrist guard.

His father would get Duncan back. He'd rescued Adam from Snake Mountain without He-Man's help, after all. On the other hand, no one who was going would make any priority of retrieving the sword, so He-Man would remain out of reach until something could be done about that.

Adam stayed on the balcony, watching for his father and Duncan's return. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done that. Back when they were children, Teela would have joined him, pulling her knees up to her chest and watching beside him. They'd sat together waiting for their fathers many times in the past. This was different, though. Teela was with them, now, and he was left home to watch alone.

He glanced over his shoulder at Pirschan and Quick Wing. Alone except for his bodyguards. Heaving an irritated sigh, he turned back to look out over the palace courtyard and the countryside beyond.

A few moments later, he heard a voice that made his back stiffen. "Adam?"

"What, Raon?" Adam said, his voice as level and calm as he could make it.

Raon walked up to stand beside him at the railing. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you how sorry." Adam could hear the distress in his friend's voice over what had happened, and the prince looked down at the marble veining of the stone balustrade, eyes automatically seeking the shapes he'd found in the random patterns as a child. He didn't want to hear this right now, not while he was still so angry. "But, Adam . . . your highness . . ." Adam closed his eyes, gritting his teeth at this reminder of his position. "My priority has to be you."

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat. "So, let me get this straight. You have to protect me." Raon nodded in his peripheral vision. "By throwing me to the ground and causing me to lose my own weapon, so that if, Elders forbid, you and Quick Wing had gone down, I would have had no way to defend myself."

Raon grimaced. "I'm sorry, but your father has been pretty emphatic about keeping you where I could see you, especially after you disappeared on that trip to the Southern Continent."

Adam bit his lip and felt his fists clench. He could hardly tell Raon – or his father – that He-Man had been needed, and that he hadn't actually been out of the sight of his bodyguards for more than the time it took to transform and to change back. "Right," he said curtly.

"The danger you were in then was stunning, and we had no idea where you were for nearly four hours. Your father told me to make sure you didn't get away from me again, and he was . . ."

Adam nodded and Raon let his description trail off. Adam could imagine just what his father had been like, he'd certainly been incandescent with rage when he'd spoken with Adam about the incident. And it did explain his father's embarrassment. He'd given the order that led to that insanity on the Sands of Time. "Aren't you overdue for some sleep?" Adam asked when they'd both been silent for awhile.

"I am," Raon said. "I don't know if I could sleep right now, though." Adam sympathized, but he didn't much want company. He now understood Raon's behavor better, but perversely, that didn't make him any less angry. Fortunately, he didn't have to come up with a way to dismiss the old friend who had now become the captain of his bodyguard. Murmuring something about duties, Raon withdrew and Adam was left to watch and wait alone again.

* * *

As soon as they emerged from Evil-Lyn's 'audience chamber,' Duncan was seized on both sides by Trap Jaw and Whiplash. "Oh, for pity's sake," he growled. "Can't you do something about this?" he asked Evil-Lyn.

"What would I do?" she asked, amused.

"According to you, I can't escape. What's the point?"

"Maybe they're afraid you'll hurt them," she said, gazing at them disdainfully.

"Hey!" Trap Jaw exclaimed.

"What you mean?" demanded Whiplash.

Duncan's patience snapped, allowing his irritation to flash into fury, and he moved swiftly into action. Within moments, Trap Jaw and Whiplash were lying on the ground, groaning. Evil-Lyn watched with interest. Self consciously, he stood up straight out of his combative position.

"Very nice, Duncan," she said, then stepped over Trap Jaw's outflung leg and threaded her hand through his arm. Duncan reflected that it hadn't been wise to give in to temptation. Not that it made much difference. Unless told otherwise, Skeletor's minions would attack him any chance they got. He started to pull away from her, but she dug her nails into the flesh inside his arm. "Be nice."

_Cooperate_, he told himself. _Cooperate and maybe they won't kill you._ As if cooperation would make any difference to Skeletor. He sent mental apologies to Adam. This not antagonizing one's captors thing wasn't as easy as it sounded.

Whiplash and Trap Jaw caught up behind them as they arrived at the throne room, looming menacingly, their hostility a tangible thing. No, giving it to temptation hadn't been a wise choice.

Duncan looked ahead and saw that a hooded figure awaited in a throne at the top of a short stair. He couldn't see the face of Randor's nemesis, but he knew what lay in the shadows of that hood. Once, Keldor had been a handsome man, but by a twist of his own vindictive cruelty, his face had been burned away by acid. How his life had been maintained, Duncan didn't know and wasn't going to ask, but a horror lurked within that hood. As he approached Skeletor's throne, he was painfully aware both of his lack of proper clothing and of the evil sorceress who clung to his arm as if he were escorting her to a ball.

Now was the time to speak first, to steal Skeletor's thunder and take charge of the conversation. He pulled away from Evil-Lyn, who didn't object this time, and stepped forward. "Honored as I am by the attention," Duncan said wryly, "I'm at a loss to guess what you hope to gain by it. I'm neither a child nor a non-combatant. Randor won't negotiate for my freedom."

The eyes within that hood glowed red. "Indeed, Man-At-Arms? Well, then it is good that I have no plans to negotiate with Randor for your release." Duncan raised his eyebrows in query, refusing to show just how chilled he was by the remark. What _were_ his plans? "I understand that there is another who might seek your return, and she has greater access to what I desire most of all." Duncan stared in alarm at the master of Snake Mountain. He couldn't mean what it sounded like he meant. Surely court gossip didn't travel this far! But it might explain Evil-Lyn's sudden interest in him. The Lord of Snake Mountain wasn't done. "But there will be time for that later, when I am ready. In the meantime, I have a task for you, Man-At-Arms. One of which I know you are entirely capable." Skeletor rose and descended the stairs. "Follow me."

As if he had a choice. Duncan walked behind the skull-faced menace, ignoring Evil-Lyn and his 'honor guard' with as much dignity as he could muster. He felt ridiculous in this garb, and naked without his armor. Even at home, he rarely went anywhere without it.

Skeletor led him to a small work room. Shelves stuffed with electrical components, coiled wires and miscellaneous parts lined the walls, but in the center sat a device that he recognized. He stopped abruptly and stared. "But it exploded!" Duncan exclaimed.

"Yes, it did," Skeletor said, turning slowly, reminding him that he had set the explosive himself. Duncan gazed apprehensively at the glowing red eyes of the self-proclaimed overlord of evil. "I was very put out." He suppressed the urge to draw back from the hostility in that voice, and the red glare of the empty sockets. "But Tri-Klops, bumbler though he is, managed to salvage at least some of the parts and reconstructed the rest from memory." Duncan glanced at the apparatus. Skeletor might denigrate his henchman's work, but if that was a salvage pull-together, it was amazing. "Unfortunately, he can't make it work, and since we haven't managed to steal the plans, you're going to finish it for me."

"And why would I do that?"

"I'm going to let Evil-Lyn persuade you." Duncan cast an involuntary glance at the witch, who smiled smugly at him. He set his jaw and returned his gaze to Skeletor's face. "Who knows," the skull-faced man continued, "by the time you've finished my machine, you may not want to leave." Duncan snorted at this ridiculous gibe, earning a flash of ire from Evil-Lyn. "Tri-Klops will assist you in any way you require." Duncan raised his eyebrow and glanced toward that individual. The concentrated menace coming from that direction was now explained.

He stared disgustedly at the excavator, irritated by its very existence. He'd built it under duress in the first place. Though he hadn't seen it in weeks, he already loathed the sight of the wretched thing.

Skeletor swept out of the room, leaving him alone with Tri-Klops and Evil-Lyn. Charming. He couldn't decide whose company he'd prefer, the glaring three-eyed tech whose skill had just been maligned or the witch who seemed to have designs on him. It was a tough choice. Tri-Klops stood glowering, leaning against the door frame, and Evil-Lyn stood beside him.

"Well, get to work," Evil-Lyn said.

He gave her a dark look. "And if I refuse?"

She lifted an eyebrow and spoke that foreign word. Duncan thought he'd been prepared this time, but as the pain coursed through him he fell first to his knees, then to his side, curling up as the spell dragged on.

Evil-Lyn leaned closer to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the woman's proximity. "Well?" she asked, speaking right into his ear. "Do you get the picture?" Duncan's jaws were locked tight, holding back the cry he wouldn't let loose. She kept her spell on him for a moment longer, then released it. For a moment he could not move, he could only lie limp and shaking on the floor. When he had mastered himself again, he climbed slowly back to his feet.

"I enjoyed that, Evil-Lyn," Tri-Klops said, grinning broadly at him. "Do it again!"

"Let's see what his answer is now," Evil-Lyn said.

"Who cares what his answer is!"

"Skeletor does," she said in an admonishing tone. "If you'd managed to rebuild that machine properly, he –"

They suddenly heard the sound of yelling, and Tri-Klops ran out into the hall to see what was going on. Man-At-Arms heard a distant cry from Beastman. "Intruders!"

Duncan drew in a deep breath to call out to whoever had come to rescue him, but unfortunately this gave Evil-Lyn ample warning. This time the pain lasted just long enough to send him to his knees, and then she knocked him out with a carefully aimed blast of her staff.

* * *

Stratos came first. He landed in the palace courtyard and ran into the infirmary, coming out again a moment later with Dorgan. Adam jumped to his feet and ran down to meet the party as they landed. Scanning the passengers in the wind raider, Adam was devastated to see that Duncan was not among them. His father's face was a mask of pain, and Buzz-Off rode in the vehicle rather than flying independently. Teela's face was wooden with anger.

"What happened?" he asked anxiously. Mekanek helped the king out of the wind raider, while two of the medics eased Buzz-Off out. One of his wings appeared to be injured at the base, where it joined his body. They carried him away towards the infirmary.

"Ram-Man got us into Snake Mountain, but we ran into trouble," Manny said. "They flanked us and we were lucky to get away."

"What about Duncan?" Adam demanded. "Where is he?"

Teela hopped out of the wind raider and headed towards the palace infirmary without speaking, following in Buzz-Off's wake. Adam watched her go worriedly, but then his father spoke. "We didn't even catch sight of him. And Manny's right. We're lucky we got out."

"Not that we didn't have to drag you by your hair," muttered Duorno, one of his father's bodyguards. Adam glanced up at him. It sounded like he wasn't the only one having issues with his bodyguards.

"Thank you, Duorno," Randor said sharply. "You have made your opinion on the subject quite clear enough." He pushed away from Mekanek, gesturing for him to see to the passengers in the second wind raider. With a worried look at his king, Mekanek did as he was ordered, but Adam could see that it was an effort for his father to stand at all.

"What's wrong, Father?" Adam asked.

"I'm fine," Randor said irritably.

"What are we going to do now?"

Dorgan appeared at his elbow and interrupted with his customary brusqueness. "Right now your father is going to come to the infirmary where I am going to treat that burn."

"Burn?" Adam exclaimed, heart leaping into his throat. The memory of his own skin being heated to the point of blistering made him shudder, and he looked down at the leg his father was favoring. The shreds of fabric concealed the injury, but the reddened and blistered flesh was visible if one looked carefully. He ducked under his father's arm on the opposite side from the injury, holding firmly when Randor tried to pull away. "Come on, Father, you need treatment."

"Adam, I'm fine," the king protested, but he didn't try to pull away again.

"You're getting treatment," Adam said, "and then you're telling me what we're going to do."

"We're going to regroup, and try to figure out what Skeletor wants."

Adam shook his head as guards held the doors open for them to enter the building. "Father, no demands have been delivered. Skeletor hasn't asked for anything."

His father didn't immediately respond. Adam glanced aside, wondering if the pain of walking was taking all his attention, but there was an abstracted look in the king's eyes. "No, he hasn't," the king said finally. "He said nothing of the kind when we met him at Snake Mountain."

Adam grimaced. "Then I'd say he already has what he wants," he said grimly.

Randor nodded just as grimly, and they were silent for the rest of the walk to the infirmary. Courtiers stopped and stared as they passed, then hurried off to what would no doubt be juicy gossip sessions behind closed doors.

Dorgan led them to a treatment room. Teela, having apparently satisfied herself that Buzz-Off's treatment was adequate, came in to join them.

Adam lowered his father to a stool, and Randor reached out to catch Teela's hand. "I'm sure he's fine, Teela," he said, clearly seeking more to comfort than to speak what he thought was the truth. She seemed to appreciate the effort, giving his father a fleeting smile.

"I am, too," Adam replied, stepping back to let Dorgan at his father's leg. He shook his head at his father's dubious expression and sighed. "When you kidnap a skilled technician, you don't hurt him." Adam really didn't like the thoughts he was having. "If he's not asking for a ransom, that means Skeletor wants something built. People work better when they're uninjured."

"My father would never work for Skeletor," Teela declared, glaring at Adam.

"I know that, and you know that, but does Skeletor know that?" A troubled look came into Teela's eyes. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have said anything."

"No, Adam, it's fine. I just – I want to break every bone in Skeletor's body."

And if Adam only had his sword, he'd be on his way to do just that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Duncan was aware of a splitting headache as he woke up. His head lay cradled on a soft surface, but his body rested on some kind of rough stone floor. Blinking his eyes open, he looked up into Evil-Lyn's face.

"Gah!" he exclaimed, sitting up and shoving himself away, though his head protested the vigorous movements. He sat staring at her, breathing heavily. "What happened?" he asked.

"I knocked you out," she said smiling. She was sitting not far off on the floor, legs crossed, forming his recent pillow. She leaned back on her hands. "That tedious king of yours mounted a rescue expedition, but Skeletor would have been irritated to lose you."

"What happened?" Duncan demanded, standing up and looming over her. "What went wrong?"

She looked at him, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "You are hardly in a position to be so authoritarian, Duncan dear," she said. "And I don't think I like your attitude." Duncan clenched his fists. Had anyone been captured? Injured? She gazed up at him as he continued to stand, glaring down at her. "Come," she said, patting the floor next to her. "Sit down here by me and maybe I'll answer your questions." She gave him a pointed look. "If you ask me nicely."

Duncan stared down at her, disgusted by the level of subservience she clearly desired of him. "I'll bet one of the others would answer my questions."

She shrugged. "Perhaps, but they might also beat you bloody in the process. And there's no guarantee that they'd tell the truth." He turned away toward the door. "And if you start to leave this room, I'll have to stop you," she added, her voice suddenly sharp. "This is your workspace, and Skeletor would be peeved if you left." Duncan stopped on the threshold. There was no point in getting hurt more than he already had been. After those three activations of her third glyph he already felt frazzled and odd. And the small of his back was tingling again.

Irritated but seeing the futility of resisting her at the moment, he went back and sat down beside her. She smiled and put her hand on his thigh. He clenched his teeth and said, "What happened?" She didn't say anything, but waited expectantly. "Please tell me."

She gave him a smirk. "Well, obviously, they failed to rescue you. They can't have been all that serious about it. He-Man didn't even show up." Duncan stiffened, alarmed. Why hadn't He-Man come? What happened to Adam? Not that he could ask her.

"Was anyone hurt?"

She shrugged again. "That king of yours was worse than useless. How much sense does it make to bring a man into battle who has to be guarded himself?" As she spoke she caressed his leg in lazy circles with a fingertip. Duncan waited impatiently. She was deliberately dragging this out to torture him. Perhaps if he didn't react she would give it up. "You should have seen how quickly they all hightailed it out of here after Tri-Klops burned him."

"What?" Duncan grabbed her wrist to stop her hand's movement. It was an injudicious choice. His joints seized up again, his hand clenched, vise-like, around her wrist.

She gave him an amused look. "Why, Duncan, I didn't realize you wanted to be so close." Rising to her knees, she shifted so that she was sitting in his lap, her legs wrapped around his hips. Then she reached around to place her hand on his back. This resulted in her pressing close against his chest and she lingered for a moment. "This _is_ nice, isn't it?" she murmured in his ear, stroking her fingers up and down his back. She nibbled delicately on his ear, causing Duncan to breath in sharply in surprise. She chuckled, a deep sound in her throat. Then she reached down and lifted the back of his shirt and pulled it up so she could put her hand directly on his skin. "I hope you finish this project quickly. Skeletor has promised to give you to me." Duncan closed his eyes. His belief that her sexual behavior towards him was merely a ploy had been short-lived, but he had still held onto hope. Becoming Evil-Lyn's toy was not a fate he relished. She ran her hand slowly up his back to his left shoulder blade and said, "Release."

He let go of her hand as his joints released, and let his hands fall to his sides. If merely grabbing her hand to make her stop fondling his thigh counted as an attack, then shoving her off would certainly be one. She continued running her hands, both of them now, up and down his back.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore what she was doing. "How did Randor get burned?" he asked, striving to keep his tone level and calm.

"Tri-Klops shot at him," she said casually, face still close to his ear. "It really just creased his calf, but his guards and those masters pounced on him and dragged him away. I think one of the masters got hurt, too, but I'm not sure which one."

"Who came?" he asked. "You said He-Man wasn't there, but who did come?"

She sighed and leaned back so that she could look him in the face. "You're being quite tiresome on this subject, you know. Quite killing the mood." That was fine with him. "Let's see, I believe that the actor was there, and the long-necked fellow. Ram-Man, the bug, and the feathery one. Oh, and, of course, stuffybeard himself."

"So Prince Adam didn't come?"

"The coward prince? Why would he come?" So where was Adam, Duncan wondered. She leaned in close again and kissed him lightly on the neck beneath his ear. "I don't really understand all this fuss over the boy. He's such a wimpy thing, and so whiny." Duncan growled low in his throat, he couldn't help it. "And yet you're very defensive of him."

"He's the crown prince."

"I know that, but I don't get it. You're his heir, right?"

"What of it?" Duncan knit his brows perplexedly.

"Well, if he dies, you'll be king one day. Surely the power appeals to you."

Duncan shuddered. "Not remotely," he replied frankly. "I don't understand this desire for power that you all have. Power is nothing but headaches. And people trying to take it away from you."

"So is that why you're so protective of the boy?" she asked curiously, leaning back again. "You don't want to be king so you protect the one thing standing between you and that position?"

"That, and the fact that I'm fond of him."

"Affection is irrelevant when considerations of power arise," Evil-Lyn said. "I have a thought for you. If you became king, I could take care of the headache parts of the job while you tinkered in your workshop."

Duncan stared at her, annoyed by the level of callousness she showed. "You do realize that what you're talking about so casually involves the death of my closest friend and his son."

"I don't understand what the issue is," she said perplexedly. "I'm not threatening to kill them, if that's what you think. Just, if they were to die, you have that open as an option."

"You're astounding!" he said, wrinkling his brows.

She leaned in close and kissed his neck, her hands stroking the bare skin of his back. "Thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment," he growled. "Isn't Skeletor going to be annoyed by this? I mean, unless I'm greatly mistaken, this isn't an effort to get me to work on that wretched excavator."

"Skeletor's busy. And I don't know, if I told you I'd stop right now if you went to work, would you?" Her fingers still traced shapes on his back as she posed the question.

Duncan decided that his answer, a resounding _yes_, was not politic to share. Unwilling, however, to give her any notion that he did not object strenuously to her activities, he remained silent.

The sound of someone clearing his throat in the doorway made them both jump. They looked up to see Tri-Klops glaring down at them. Duncan clenched his fists on the floor and fixed his eyes on the opposite wall. This was humiliating. Evil-Lyn, however, just smiled at her colleague and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"This isn't getting that machine fixed," he growled, glaring at her.

She shrugged and stood up. "Oh well, I guess my fun will have to wait for later."

When she had backed up far enough that he wouldn't be standing up against her, Duncan rose as well. "Where do you keep the tools?" he asked Tri-Klops. The man walked over and flung up the lid of a chest that sat against the wall. It crashed open, and Tri-Klops stood over it, glaring at him. Duncan knew how he'd feel if he'd been forced to allow Tri-Klops into his own workshop, to use his tools and finish a job he hadn't managed to complete. He sympathized, but there wasn't anything he could do.

He walked over to the tool chest to see what he had to work with. "If you hadn't designed it so poorly, I wouldn't have had any trouble with it," Tri-Klops groused.

"I didn't design it," Duncan said mildly. That was –" he glanced aside at Evil-Lyn, "– Ovarn. The imposter." He bent to pick up a couple of diagnostic tools. Tri-Klops stiffened and continued to glare. He really hoped that his eye couldn't go off on its own. The witch snapped her fingers and the chair from her 'audience chamber' showed up behind her. She sat regally, clearly planning to watch him.

"What are you doing?" Tri-Klops demanded. "You don't need to stay."

"Oh, I think I do. How are you going to make him work?"

Tri-Klops smacked one fist into the other palm, looking back at Duncan. "There are ways."

"Yes, but would those leave him able to work?" Evil-Lyn asked silkily, getting up and walking over to Tri-Klops, tapping him on the chest. "You'll just have to put up with me."

Ignoring the byplay between the two minions, Duncan walked over to the excavator and started looking it over. He tested a couple of the power relays and found them dead. There was nothing obviously wrong on the surface, so he went back over to Tri-Klops' tool chest, hoping that the pair of them would be so focused on each other that he could safely disregard their presence. When he started to dismantle the excavator, however, Tri-Klops was standing over him instantly.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Duncan looked up at him, pretending he was just some kind of stupid supervisor. He'd dealt with those in the distant past, it was a fairly familiar situation. "Without taking it apart, I won't be able to find out what's wrong."

"What's wrong is that you're an incompetent oaf." Duncan turned back to his work, ignoring the irritable technician. Tri-Klops continued to hover over him, criticizing and making personal remarks. Duncan pulled the outer housing off and started looking at the wiring and connections. They appeared to be correctly matched, but there was something missing.

Finally, Duncan turned to him and said, "What do you think is actually wrong with the machine, Tri-Klops?"

The tech glared at him for a moment, then said, "I don't know."

"The explosion seems to have melted or destabilized most of the dendromine on the leads. Why didn't you replace it?"

"It shouldn't be required for the working of the device," Tri-Klops muttered. "It seems an odd choice for a digging machine anyway, since it reacts so poorly to heat."

Duncan shrugged. "I thought so myself, but it is an excellent conductor, and with sufficient shielding around the main mechanisms, it should be all right. It would have to be renewed frequently if the machine were used repeatedly, but I got the impression it was only meant to be used once."

"Poor planning," Tri-Klops said sourly. "That still doesn't explain why it won't even start, or why the power is interrupted."

"No," Duncan replied, rubbing his chin. "No, it doesn't. Did you test the power supply?"

"Yes, and it's functioning fine."

They started discussing various tests that Tri-Klops had attempted and what the results had been. He'd evidently examined the device very carefully before his tampering with it had caused the explosion that had destroyed it, and so recreating it, especially having salvaged some of the parts, hadn't been too difficult. But given the way Duncan had set the explosives, he knew that Tri-Klops hadn't been able to look too far inside. Together they tore the excavator down its component parts, discussing methods of rebuilding it. Deep in the technical details, they both forgot themselves in the task.

He was startled out of his absorption when Evil-Lyn tapped him on the shoulder. When he looked up, blinking, she said, "Is it an occupational hazard of the engineer?"

"What?"  
"This complete disregard of anything but the job?" Tri-Klops stood up stretching, and Duncan became aware that his neck was cramping slightly from the position he'd had to hold his head in for the last half-hour or so.

"What time is it?" Tri-Klops asked.

"Dinner time," she said, amused. "You've worked through the entire afternoon and well into the evening. Even engineers need food and sleep." She bent and took Duncan by the arm. "If you won't stop, you'll have to do without him for awhile, Tri-Klops. I'll return him to you early in the morning."

"Yes," cackled Skeletor who had just entered at the doorway. "But you might as well knock off, too, Tri-Klops, if Man-At-Arms isn't going to be here."

"I can manage just fine!" Tri-Klops declared.

"Come with me," Skeletor ordered. Tri-Klops glared mutinously, but, nevertheless, he walked over to join Skeletor. "And, Evil-Lyn, just be sure that Man-At-Arms is capable of working tomorrow morning."

She gave a low laugh and smiled at her liege lord. Duncan squared his shoulders and tried to ignore the appraising look Skeletor was giving him. After a moment's scrutiny, the lord of Snake Mountain turned in a swirl of fabric and left, shadowed by a rebellious Tri-Klops. A part of Duncan wanted to call him back as Evil-Lyn threaded her arm through his.

"Come along, lover," she murmured. "I have food and a comfortable bed ready for you." He looked at her out of the side of his eyes. A bed? He shuddered.

* * *

"But, Adam, if you're right, what does Skeletor want my father to build?" Teela asked, pacing the length of the king's room in the infirmary. "I mean, he has Tri-Klops. Why does he need my father?"

"Maybe it's something only your father can build," suggested Mekanek.

"Or maybe," Adam said, thinking hard, "Just maybe it's something that he's already built."

"What do you mean?" Teela asked.

"The excavator!" Randor exclaimed. "Yes, that could be it."

"So he is still after the Hand of Umalar," Stratos said. "And we still don't know what it does."

"I've gotten closer to an answer," Adam said, though of late his research into the matter had been fairly dilatory. After all, they had the imposter in custody and Skeletor never stuck to anything for very long. "At least I think so."

"Good, Adam. You keep at it." Randor looked thoughtful. "Is anyone working on Duncan's prototype?"

"No, your highness," Stratos said. "When the problem in Ebelar came up, Man-At-Arms put it on the back burner and he hasn't gotten back to it."

"Well, I don't think we'd better wait," Randor said. "We don't know how close Skeletor's device is to completion. Send for Man-E-Faces and Roboto." Mekanek stepped to the door and gave the order.

"My father wouldn't work for them!" Teela declared angrily, glaring at the king. "Even if –"

"Teela!" Adam exclaimed. "No one's saying he would, but –"

"Actually," Randor said, holding up a hand to quiet both of them. "I would imagine he is. They might kill him otherwise, and Duncan is wise enough to know that simply working on a machine doesn't mean much."

"But, if Man-At-Arms builds something –"

Randor reached out and patted Adam on the shoulder. "I didn't say he'd do his best."

"So when are we going after him again?"

"First I'm going to try negotiating for him," Randor said. He raised a hand again to forestall Adam and Teela's replies. "We don't know for certain why Skeletor is holding him, and they'll be ready for an attack now. When we rescued Adam, we were lucky and they were unprepared."

"But, Father –"

"Adam, you'd best return to your research. Have the new books come from Dovenar, yet?"

"Yes, just this morning," Adam said, sighing in exasperation.

"Teela, make sure the guards are ready for anything. Particularly for an attack on the palace, an attack on Grayskull, or an attempt to dig up the Hand of Umalar." Teela nodded, her eyes worried but her expression determined. She squeezed Adam's shoulder and left the room. "Stratos, step up the air patrols. I want a patrol to over fly that area at least once every twenty minutes." Stratos nodded and left immediately to carry out his king's command. "Mekanek, let the rest of the masters know that they need to be ready to take action on a moment's notice. That means everyone needs to get plenty of rest and eat meals at the appropriate times. You know what I expect." Mekanek saluted the king laconically and also left.

"Adam?"

"Father, we need to do something more than 'negotiating' about Duncan," Adam said pleadingly. "Skeletor's minions are brutes! We don't know what they're doing to him."

"You're the one who said they wouldn't hurt him, Adam, and I think you're right."

Adam shook his head. "They wouldn't hurt him permanently, but he won't just give in, Father, you know that. And there's plenty they can do that wouldn't interfere with his ability to work."

His father closed his eyes, and put a hand on Adam's shoulder. "Believe me, Adam, I know. I don't like it any better than you do, but we can't risk lives if there's another way."

"You did for me," Adam protested.

"That was different, Adam."

"How?"

"Well, for one thing, you're sixteen, not an adult, and not a soldier." Adam glared. "Second, you were severely weakened and vulnerable, and we couldn't afford to wait or your condition might have worsened. Furthermore, we knew he was actively trying to kill you." Well, that was true, Adam had to admit. "And," his father added more gently. "No matter how much it distresses you, your position does make a difference in these situations. As the crown prince, you have to –"

"I know, I have to survive." Adam looked at the floor. "I'm sorry I said all that earlier. I didn't mean it."

Randor snorted. "Yes, you did. And some of it is true."

Shifting uncomfortably, Adam asked, "Some of it?"

"You haven't been safe at the palace, son, and I'm not surprised that you don't feel secure." Adam looked at the floor again. "You're still having nightmares, aren't you?" Adam didn't say anything, but his father didn't need a verbal response. He squeezed Adam's shoulder. "They'll pass, son."

"They've gotten less frequent, anyway," Adam said.

"And as for the other, Adam, you're my son and I love you. I would do anything to protect you."

That didn't really answer the issue, but Adam didn't care. "I know, but I can't stand just waiting." "Adam, the one thing you can do that would really help out right now would be to return to your research and find out what that thing does." Adam nodded reluctantly. "I know it doesn't seem like you're doing much, son, but it's necessary, and I don't know that anyone else could do it. You said that even the Sorceress doesn't know what the Hand of Umalar does."

Adam shrugged. That had been a really alarming surprise. She knew it was powerful, that it was dormant and that it was evil, but she didn't know what its purpose was. And the books in her library hadn't held anything useful. "I'll go see what I can find."

He went to the room near the palace library that he'd taken for his own study. It had two small windows that let in the light, and his father had had the palace carpenters install shelving for him on three of the walls. The books from Dovenar were piled on the corner of his table. Adam sat down, pulled a book toward him and started to skim.

A servant brought him his dinner hours later, and he ate without paying much attention to his food, busily taking notes on the references he was finding. He was getting close, he knew it, if not to the actual information, then to finding out which book contained the information. He just hoped it was a book he could find, not something long since destroyed or hidden away in a book stall somewhere, molding into ruin. Or worse yet, tucked on some shelf in Skeletor's library.

He sighed, turned the page and read on.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**_Fair Warning: This chapter contains adult situations. If that makes you uncomfortable, don't read._**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Duncan lay uneasily on the couch in Evil-Lyn's audience chamber. It was warm enough that he didn't need blankets, which was good because she hadn't given him any. Evil-Lyn herself had left, but not before chaining one of his ankles to the wall. The chain left plenty of room for movement. He could, for instance, reach the pitcher of water and the chamberpot she'd left for him. But, as had been her intention, he could not reach either door. Once she'd left, he'd explored the space as thoroughly as he could. There was nothing useful that wasn't chained to the wall or out of reach.

His dinner had been excellent, but it would have been better if Evil-Lyn hadn't spent most of the time attempting to cozy herself up beside him. He'd put up with her caresses and her teasing for awhile, but his patience eventually snapped.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" he'd demanded. "I'm trying to eat."

"I don't know why that would get in the way of a little entertainment," she'd said. The words _You make me want to vomit_ had floated in his mind, but he didn't say them, and he was glad to know she couldn't pick up his surface thoughts. That one might have annoyed her.

However, she'd largely restrained herself after that, which, unaccountably, just made him more edgy. He couldn't help wondering what she might be planning.

Eventually, he managed to force himself to sleep. A good soldier sleeps when he can, for a sleepy soldier might as well hand himself over to the enemy. _Though in this case that might be redundant,_ he thought as he drifted off.

He came awake in total blackness, hours later, he thought, aware only that something in the space around him had changed. A hand settled gently on his chest and stroked down to his waist where it slipped underneath the shirt. Automatically, he lifted his hands to push the intruder away, but a low laugh from his left stopped him.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Evil-Lyn murmured, sitting down on the edge of the couch next to his hip and placing her other hand on his arm. "Unless you want to wind up frozen again."

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly with his alarm.

She laughed again, a low throaty sound, and murmured a word that caused the clothing she had provided for him to vanish away in an instant. He stiffened, his sudden nakedness making him feel extremely vulnerable. She leaned closer, her body pressed close against his, skin to skin, her breasts crushed between them. Evidently she was naked as well. He felt his heart rate increase.

"What do you think you are doing?" he demanded in an authoritative voice, trying to shock her into backing away from this insane course of action.

"What do you think, dear Duncan?" she asked, her face very close to his. "I'm getting what I want." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "And I wouldn't recommend trying to push me away. You know what would happen."

Her hands were stroking his chest and arms, and she began nibbling on his neck. Duncan lay motionless on the soft surface, unable to think what he could do to get out of this. He wanted Randor to show up right now and deal with this witch. On second thought, an alarmed part of his mind told him that the last thing he wanted was Randor coming in on this scene. _And this is what she wants to do to He-Man, no doubt,_ Duncan thought, horrified at the thought of sixteen-year-old, innocent Adam in this woman's clutches – looking like an adult.

She stopped her nibbling and tapped him sharply on the cheek with one finger. "You're not paying attention, Duncan. A girl might begin to feel unappreciated."

"What do you want me to do?" he growled at her.

"That's fine, dear," she said, and returned her attention to his ear. He groaned in frustration and she chuckled, her hands twining in his hair, and her breasts brushed against his chest, tickling slightly. A moment later she leaned back and stood up, then straddled him at the waist, kneeling across him. She bent and kissed him full on the mouth, a long, lingering kiss that made him want desperately to shove her across the room. Her hands grew more direct in their movements, teasing at his nipples and tugging playfully at the hair on his chest. When she ended the kiss and moved her attentions elsewhere, he gasped for breath. "Your skin is very soft for a man's," she murmured into his ear. "Such a delight to touch and caress."

"Evil-Lyn, stop th –" he started to say, but she took advantage of his open mouth and kissed him again, delving deep with her tongue and nibbling at his lips. He wanted to cringe back, but there was nowhere to go.

Driven beyond thought in his disgust, his hands found her shoulders to shove her back, but at that moment his joints locked up again and he growled in protest. She paused in her play, and he could almost see the smile that spread across her face. The blasted witch was enjoying this! Enjoying his discomfort and his helpless fury.

"Now, Duncan," she sighed in amusement. "I did warn you." One finger traced the line of his jaw. "What a very peculiar position you've gotten yourself into." She bent and resumed the kiss, and, with his jaw locked open, he could do nothing to stop her. He fumed silently, contemplating just what he wanted to do to her when he was free. She began kissing down his neck and onto his chest, teasing at his skin with her tongue and teeth, her nipples brushing his skin and sending shivers through him. Certain bodily reactions were built in, and he found himself responding in a way he would have preferred not to. A sense of physical pleasure was building in him despite his attempts to push it down, and he felt increasingly powerless as his body betrayed him.

As she shifted herself further and further down, she had to be aware of his physical response, but she moved slowly, caressing the skin on the sides of his hips as she toyed with the skin on his belly. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps and his heart was beating fast.

Her hands moved gradually in till she was stroking the crease between his legs and his torso, then she began to move up his body again, and he knew what was coming. He was surprised, however, when she slid her hand beneath his left shoulder and whispered, "Release." His joints relaxed, and his hands fell to the sides of the bed, brushing against her knees. He moved them quickly so that he was not touching her. His heart was racing and he was panting for breath.

She gave him another lingering kiss, catching him once more with his mouth open, then she positioned herself above him, her hands on his belly to aid her balance. "Are you ready, lover?" His response was short and profane, which caused her to laugh delightedly.

He grit his teeth and clenched his fists as she carefully, deliberately, and very slowly, took him inside her. Her movements were slow but vigorous as she brought his body to a fever pitch. He bit his lip to hold back the moans she was drawing forth from him and closed his eyes, even though he couldn't see her anyway.

The orgasm, he reflected, striving for scientific detachment, is a release of tension. Why was it that when one sort of tension released, another began? Revulsion and anger coiled in his gut, and he wanted nothing more than for her to go away. She relaxed over the top of him and nibbled a bit more on his neck, but she was clearly largely done with him for the night. A few moments later, she curled up atop him and, sighing softly, fell asleep.

Duncan's mind boggled when he realized that she was actually going to stay there. But there was literally nothing he could do. If he grabbed her, his joints would lock and he'd be frozen for the rest of the night. He tried to slow his breathing and still his heart rate, but it wasn't easy. His rage at being so manipulated and used sent adrenalin coursing through his body, making it very difficult to calm himself down. He eventually fell asleep again, but for a long time he jerked awake every time she shifted or made the slightest noise.

* * *

The palace had been quiet for hours when Adam's father entered Adam's study. Adam didn't even look up, he was so absorbed in the facts he was correlating.

"Adam," the king said.

"Yes, Father?" Adam replied, still scanning a page of text to verify his memory. An idea had come to him, a bizarre and irrational idea, but it seemed to be panning out.

"It's three in the morning," his father said, yawning. "Go to bed."

"I can't, Father," Adam muttered. "If I stop now I might lose this thread." He marked a check on the chart he'd created, then dropped the book on a pile that was accumulating on the floor next to his chair. He got up and scanned the shelves. Finding the next book he needed, he pulled it out, sat down and started looking for the page he remembered.

"But you need sleep, son."

He looked up, frustrated by the interruption. "I couldn't sleep now if I tried," he said sharply. "I'll go to bed soon. I've only got two or three more books to go through. Then I'll need to sleep, just to make sure this isn't an insanity that makes no sense in the morning."

His father stared at him a moment longer. "All right, son. Just be sure you're in bed within the hour." Adam took a swallow of the hot chocolate that a servant had brought awhile ago. It wasn't all that hot at this point, but it didn't much matter. "Yes, Father," he said he said absently.

Randor came around the table and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Adam, I'm very proud of you. Good night."

Adam looked up in shock as Randor left, but he had no time to think about what his father had said. He kept scanning the text, found what he was looking for, marked his chart and sought another book.

* * *

Deeply asleep, Duncan had a dream that he'd had often in the past, a pleasant, pleasurable dream of a young woman he'd known many years before when he'd been hardly more than a boy himself. Amantha had not wanted to marry a soldier, and he had not wanted to be a clerk in her father's shop. Nevertheless, they'd parted without acrimony and he remembered the few months they'd spent together fondly.

As the dream reached its climax, he awoke abruptly in the darkness to find himself in the midst of a nightmare. Evil-Lyn once more straddled him, and his hands were on her hips, guiding her movements. He tightened his grip, preparing to throw her across the room, but the spell activated once more, freezing his hands. She moaned appreciatively.

"Awake, lover?" she asked, an amused note in her voice. Duncan wanted to growl, but he was caught on the wave of ecstasy the dream had created. Unable to prevent it, he groaned at the sensations her movement stirred in him. She let out a small sound of pleasure as his tension spent itself, and then she leaned over him. "That was a delightful way to wake up," she purred in his ear, then bit his neck playfully. Her hand slid beneath him and she dismissed the spell that held him rigid. He removed his hands from her body immediately and clutched the sides of the couch, his stomach roiling in disgust and revulsion. "I think you need a wider bed," she said, twining herself around him.

"I think you need to get off me," he snarled. She laughed, tugging gently at the hair on his chest with her fingers.

"Who is Amantha?" she asked softly. Sliding out from under her evidently didn't count as an attack, for Duncan managed to get up and walk away. His retreat was brought up short at the end of the chain, however, which rattled metallically when it pulled him to a halt. The amused laughter that followed him made him clench his fists in fury. "Ordinarily a girl doesn't like her lover to cry out another woman's name in the throes of passion, but if she brings out this response in you, please, think of her often."

The light came back suddenly, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. Evil-Lyn was no longer on the couch. He was quite alone.

He walked back over and sat down. Randor would come for him. He-Man would come for him. Unless Skeletor was attacking the palace or Grayskull to keep them occupied. He buried his face in his hands. He hope Evil-Lyn hadn't lied to him about the extent of the king's injuries. And Adam, what had happened to Adam? Why wasn't He-Man already here? For all he knew, Adam could be severely wounded or – his mind shied away from the thought – dead.

"I hope you're not too tired," Evil-Lyn said from across the room. Duncan stood in surprise at her unannounced entrance, and she smiled at him, eyes exploring his body proprietarily. He stood calmly, bearing her scrutiny, for there was nothing he could do to stop her and he would not cower before her. She was dressed in her full regalia, he was pleased to see. "Skeletor expects a certain level of competence," she added.

He said nothing, merely waiting for her to tell him what she wanted. She reached out a hand and the cuff that shackled his ankle released. Beckoning with one finger, she said, "It's time for another bath."

Duncan went with her to the bathing chamber where she turned and faced him, placing one hand on his chest. He didn't move. She'd probably just follow him around the room if he tried to back away, and he wasn't going to play tag with her. "I'm afraid I have some work this morning, so I won't be accompanying you to the workshop. I'll be there around noon, however, so if you don't want to find yourself in agony, you'd best get a good morning's work in." He set his teeth and nodded. She took a step back herself, her fingers lingering on his chest and looked him over. He lifted his chin and closed his eyes, willing himself to ignore her as she walked around his body, fingers tracing an invisible line around him at her shoulder height. "You really are magnificent, my dear Duncan."

"I'm not your dear anything," he said curtly.

She stopped front of him and put a hand on his right shoulder for a balance point as she raised up on tiptoe to place a gentle kiss on his lips. "Oh, but you are," she murmured, running that hand down his chest as she stood back down again. "You are."

He didn't trust himself to speak, and if he moved he was going to try to knock her into a wall, which would be pointless and probably just amuse her more. He stood still, staring at a point on the opposite wall.

"I'd bathe quickly, if I were you," she said, her voice going abruptly business-like, though her fingers still lingered on his chest, tracing his muscles. "Tri-Klops will be here soon to take you to work. Clothes are on that chair," she added, pointing. He glanced and saw an outfit like the one he'd worn the day before. "I'll see you later, lover," she said, looking up at him, her eyes full of promise.

"Not if I can help it," he muttered. She laughed and left the room, locking the door behind her.

He took her at her word, and bathed rapidly, scrubbing hard at his skin where she had touched him, as though her touch was a mark he could wash off. The door opened as he pulled the shirt on over his head. Tri-Klops grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the hallway, shoving him ahead of him. He bore the man's overt hostility quietly, knowing that there was little point in fighting back. It would only make him angrier and more violent.

When they arrived at the workshop, Tri-Klops slammed him up against the door frame, then let him go through the door. Duncan threw a glance at his companion's face. The other man's temper was in check, but only barely. He wasn't unusually harsh when he placed the shackle around his ankle, but he radiated controlled rage. Duncan would have to tread carefully with him today. Without speaking, Duncan started to work. His silence seemed to be calming Tri-Klops' anger, because the technician came to work beside him.

As time passed, the other engineer gradually began to discuss the next steps with him. They agreed that Duncan would work on the leads because Tri-Klops had limited experience working with dendromine. For Duncan's part, he knew it was a finicky, time-consuming process, and he could milk it for a lot of wasted time.

Duncan was sitting at the workbench, carefully applying the dendromine to new wires while Tri-Klops bolted the framework together when voices outside made both men freeze.

"If Evil-Lyn can persuade Man-At-Arms to stay here," Skeletor was saying, "then we'll have no trouble at all in defeating the masters." Duncan closed his eyes in dismay. If there was anything that could put the cap on his humiliation, it was the lord of Snake Mountain knowing what Evil-Lyn was doing to him. And discussing it with his lackeys.

"Yeah!" Beastman agreed. "We could crush those stupid masters."

"Maybe we should give them Tri-Klops in return. Hardly a fair trade, but who cares."

Duncan opened his eyes and looked around at the other engineer. He held a wrench in his hand and his knuckles were white with the force of his grip. He shifted back on his haunches, giving Duncan just enough time to drop what he was doing and turn to meet the sudden rush as Tri-Klops launched himself at him, smashing him through the workbench.

Duncan seized the other man's arms and threw him off, surging to his feet, scrabbling for another tool as he rose. He came up with a pry bar. There was nothing he could say to cool Tri-Klops fury, he'd just have to hope he could defend himself. The glint of energy building in Tri-Klops' red eye warned Duncan that he was about to fire, and he threw himself to the side. The shackle on his ankle yanked back, and he fell headlong, rolling just in time to avoid a blow from the wrench. Metal clanged on stone.

"I'll kill you!" Tri-Klops growled, and Duncan believed he meant it. That he had no desire for the position offered by Skeletor would make no difference to Tri-Klops. It wasn't really Duncan he was angry at, but Duncan was the target of opportunity. And he clearly saw Duncan as a rival.

Duncan grappled with the other technician as he fell on him. Tri-Klops tossed the wrench aside and reached both hands out for his neck. Knowing that he was fighting for his life, Duncan gripped and hung on to Tri-Klops' wrists, striving to keep him from getting a stranglehold on him.

Suddenly, Tri-Klops began to rise slowly off him. Duncan released his wrists as the other man levitated into the air, floating about four feet above him.

"What are you doing, Tri-Klops?" Evil-Lyn demanded from the doorway.

He didn't answer, but Duncan's eyes widened as he saw that the ocular cannon was charging again. He rolled to the side just in time, and the bolt crashed to the floor beside him, singing his hair.

Evil-Lyn flung Tri-Klops across the room where he crashed into the wall, destroying the shelves and sending their contents cascading to the floor, followed shortly by the man himself. He rose out of the mess and glared at Evil-Lyn.

Duncan got slowly to his feet, not sure if it was wiser to stand or to lie flat at this moment.

"You will clean up this mess!" Evil-Lyn commanded, glaring at the three-eyed engineer. "It's clear that you cannot be trusted alone with our guest, so I will be personally supervising this project henceforth." Duncan gazed apprehensively at the growing fury on Tri-Klops' face, but the man held it in. "I expect that this workshop will be ready for continued work tomorrow morning." She looked aside at Duncan and released the shackle with a gesture. "Come along, Duncan."

_Tomorrow morning?_ Duncan thought. _What is she going to do with me for the rest of today?_ "I could help Tri-Klops clear away this mess," he suggested tentatively.

Her eyes narrowed. Evidently shows of rebellion amused her less when there was an audience. She snapped her fingers, and he felt a collar appear around his neck. He reached up a hand in surprise and gazed at the leash that now extended from his neck to her hand. She tugged hard and he stumbled forward. "Come along!" she ordered. Duncan drew his shoulders back and walked out of the room after her, hoping devoutly that none of the minions would see them in the halls.

He looked from side to side and saw that the walls here were hung with trophies from past battles, some of them long-past. Helms from fallen enemies, he blinked as he noticed that his breastplate now hung between two doors. He averted his eyes, and stopped dead as something on the opposite wall caught his eye. Randor's old sword hung there, the one he'd used during the battle during which He-Man had appeared, immediately after the fall of the Mystic Wall. Crossing it was the Power Sword, and above them both hung one of Adam's wrist guards. He stared in shock. No wonder He-Man hadn't come for him. What did it mean?

Evil-Lyn turned back when she felt the leash go taut. "Oh, did you notice your breastplate?" she asked. "I wanted to hang it in my room, but –" When she saw the direction his eyes had taken, though she broke off and walked back to join him. "No . . . I see you're interested in our Royal Eternian display."

He turned on her slowly, hands clenched at his sides so that he wouldn't lunge at her. "Where is Adam?" he demanded.

Giving him a perplexed look, "How should I know?" she exclaimed impatiently, rolling her eyes. "I'd imagine he's hiding in the palace behind his bodyguards."

"But, how?" he pointed at the sword and Adam's wrist guard.

"Oh, that? According to Whiplash, the prince dropped it when his bodyguards tackled him to the ground."

"They did what?" That sounded all too possible to Duncan's horrified mind, and it explained a great deal about that fight.

"It does sound rather amusing, doesn't it? Whiplash said that they were almost more of a menace to him than our forces were." Duncan had known that bodyguards would be a difficult thing for Adam to deal with combined with his secret, but – tackled to the ground? He'd have to have a little chat with Raon when he got back. "And the other, well, that's from one of Skeletor's more fabulous fiascos." He glanced at her, curious despite himself. "He sent Beastman with some of his hounds to sniff out He-Man, and all they found was that." She was pointing at Adam's bracer, and Duncan hoped his reaction didn't show on his face. He was appalled by how close the villains had come to discovering the secret. Clearly, however, they hadn't given the truth any consideration. She tugged on his leash again, impatient to be gone. "Come along, lover. We have things to do." She looked him up and down. "For one thing, I need to tend those wounds."

He turned horrified eyes on her, and she laughed. He glanced back at the Power Sword and sighed. Rescue suddenly seemed considerably farther off.

* * *

Duncan lay back, mortified, in the bath. Evil-Lyn had followed him in again, to watch, or so he thought, but she'd waved a hand, dismissing the clothing as she had the night before. He glared at her, but he climbed into the tub. The moment he was sitting down, however, she'd come up behind him and tied the leash to the head of the bath in such a way that he couldn't sit forward very far at all. The only comfortable position, in fact, was leaning back against the wall of the tub.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm bathing you, darling," she said in a taunting voice. "You're injured. Doesn't a good woman bathe her man's wounds?"

"You're not a good woman!" he exclaimed. "I can bathe myself."

"I'm hurt, truly!" she said mockingly. "And after I saved you from Tri-Klops."

"That wasn't for me," he said sourly. "You just didn't want him to break your toy."

She removed her bracers and her armlets and set aside her headdress, revealing close-cropped white hair. He didn't really want her removing any of her garments, but stopping her was beyond his power. She wet a sponge and squeezed warm water across his chest. He flinched as she reached down and spread the water with her hand, but he kept his hands still, not wanting to wind up frozen again. This woman was evil and twisted, and had a bizarre sense of humor. He'd known that before, but this whole situation just confirmed his opinion.

The soap she had in here was in gel form. She reached out and took up the crystal vial, poured some onto his chest and started to lather him up, paying careful attention to all the more sensitive areas. He closed his eyes and lay back, trying unsuccessfully to think of her as one of the medics at the palace. He'd been bathed by them before when he was too injured to do it himself. As her hands roamed across the front of his body, however, he was forced to recall that he wasn't that injured, and she wasn't a medic. For one thing, the touch of the palace medics was impersonal and business-like. Evil-Lyn's was anything but impersonal.

"Are you enjoying yourself, lover?" she asked, stroking his cheek with one wet hand.

He opened his eyes and looked at her curiously. "Which would please you more?" he asked. "If I said yes or if I said no?"

She gave him a thoughtful, appraising look. "I don't know. I think equally, for different reasons." She smiled at him, one of her hands stroking his abdomen, the other the inside of his thigh. "Why? Are you likely to say yes?"

He looked away from her toward the wall and she laughed again. He was beginning to loathe the sound of her laughter. Closing his eyes again he thought furiously, trying to distract himself from the way she was tormenting him. He-Man's sword was mounted on the wall in Snake Mountain, the Elders only knew if anyone had told the Sorceress anything yet. He snorted No, Randor had probably sent a messenger to let her know that her 'suitor' was in trouble. But that wouldn't have been Adam. Whether the boy had been injured in the ambush or not, Randor wasn't likely to let him out of the palace any time again soon. So there was no way to guess if she knew that He-Man was out of commission.

"I think you're distracted again, lover," Evil-Lyn said, a low menacing tone in her voice. His eyes flipped open to see hostile lavender eyes gazing at him from mere inches away. "You must learn, Duncan, that I expect a man to pay attention to me when I'm with him." She stood up and began to unhook the bodice of her garment.

"Doesn't it disturb you that having you undress in front of me is seen as a punishment?"  
Her eyes flashed fire, but she smiled at him and her hands continued to work at her clothing. "Oh, but I'm not going to punish you, my dear. I'm just going to make it very difficult for you to ignore me." He started to turn his head, but she caught his earlobe between her fingernails. "Don't look away, Duncan, or I might become angry."

She finished disrobing, revealing a figure that was everything her garments promised. _No padding there, either_, he thought.

"You know, Evil-Lyn, you are beautiful." She raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the compliment. "You're beautiful, witty, intelligent, and even reasonably competent when the others here don't get in your way." She nodded, eyes still wary. "You might even be attractive if you weren't out to destroy everything I hold dear."

"Really?" she asked, stepping closer to the tub. "And here I thought you were already attracted to me." Leaning down, she slowly ran a hand from the center of his chest to his groin, bringing forth an involuntary physical response. He grit his teeth as she gazed at his body, then looked back at his face. "It certainly seems so," she observed maliciously.

"That's something I can't control," he groaned. "It's nothing to do with you." She removed her hand and slipped over the side of the tub to kneel across him, taking full advantage of the excitement her touch had engendered. He squirmed, trying to get away from her, but the leash at his neck and the confines of the tub foiled him, and his movements merely caused events to speed up. When it was over, she sat back and gazed contentedly at him. Groaning in protest, he pulled his knees up to his chest, allowing her to splash down into the other end of the tub. He expected this to irritate her, but she laughed once more, and, rising on her knees, she leaned forward, pressing close to him.

Her face was inches from his when she spoke. "You say you can't control this response, that it's nothing to do with me, hmm?" He glared at her, but did not reply. "But somehow, I doubt that Skeletor could elicit such a reaction." The image this called to his mind made his flesh creep and he shuddered. She pulled on his ankles to force his legs down on either side of her. He started to resist, but realized it was futile. She meant to have her way with him and he could not stop her. She'd proven three times over that he couldn't. Evil-Lyn wrapped her own legs around his waist, stroking his chest and sides with her hands. "It is quite possible for a man to be completely unresponsive with a woman who utterly repels him." After their bout of intercourse, his body was sensitized to her touch, and every caress sent shivers through him.

He clenched his teeth and his fists and looked away, at the wall over her shoulder. "Just admit it, my dear, dear Duncan. There is some part of you that's enjoying this, that doesn't want me to stop."

"No, there isn't," he grated through his clenched jaw.

She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Whether you want to admit it consciously or no, you are attracted to me. You want me on a very basic level."

"Perhaps," he agreed reluctantly, then, to quench the look of triumph in her eyes, he added, "On a purely physical level. Otherwise, you disgust me."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Do I?" Her hands left his face and began to wander again along his neck and shoulders.

"The pleasure you're taking in this – this –" He could not find a word he was willing to use. "It's revolting."

"But Duncan, you're taking pleasure, too. Most unwillingly, but it is pleasure."

He thumped his head back against the tub behind him. The only things he could say would anger her, and somehow he didn't want to do that in this enormously vulnerable position. _You nauseate me _might make her just the slightest bit annoyed. And he could not entirely deny the truth of her words. His body thrilled to her touch, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. He covered his face with his hands. Obviously Evil-Lyn was competent at anything she set her hand to.

"What are you doing to me?" he demanded. "Is it a spell? Is it witchcraft?"

"It's the oldest magic in the world," she murmured, leaning close. "And you, of all people, should understand chemistry." She took his wrists and pulled his hands away from his face, leaning in to drop a kiss on his lips. "This is good, isn't it, Duncan? If I were another woman, if this wasn't Snake Mountain, you wouldn't be fighting me at all."

"But that's the point, Evil-Lyn, you're not another woman, and this is Snake Mountain. And you've bound me here by sorcery."

"You could stay here by choice," she whispered into his ear. "If you're concerned about what those you've left behind would think, you need never leave Snake Mountain again. We could provide them with a body so they could mourn you and move on."

Duncan stiffened. "I could not!" he snapped. "I don't want to stay here, Evil-Lyn. Nothing you could do would persuade me to that."

She gave him a lazy smile. "We'll just have to see about that." He opened his mouth to retort, but she forestalled him with a kiss.

* * *

_Reviews make the world go 'round. Also, be aware that this story is exceptionally long. It isn't as long as_ Highest Bidder_, but it comes fairly close. Much will be explained, but it may take time._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Adam knocked on his father's office door. He knew that missives had been flying back and forth all day from Snake Mountain, but he hadn't heard any details of the negotiation. "Come in," his father's voice said through the door.

He entered to find his father staring at a letter that had been closed with an embossed purple seal. "What is that?" he asked.

"A letter for the Sorceress from Skeletor," Randor said, picking it up and turning it over a couple of times. "I don't quite dare read it, but I wonder what he's said."

Adam wondered, too. But this was the very opening he was looking for. "I could deliver it," he suggested eagerly.

"I'm not sure it should be delivered," Randor said dubiously. "This negotiation should be between me and Skeletor. She shouldn't have to be involved." He shook his head. "But I have no right to prevent her from taking whatever actions she chooses. But Adam, you don't need to deliver it. I can send Orko again, or –"

"I need to go to Grayskull anyway," Adam said urgently. "I'm close, I know I am, but I need to consult a couple of books I'm sure she has."

His father pursed his lips. "I don't want you taking unnecessary risks, Adam."

"This isn't unnecessary!" Adam exclaimed. "I need to consult the library at Grayskull to complete the research you yourself set me to." His father's eyebrows went up at this impassioned declaration. "Send an entire troop of guards with me if you must, but I need to go to Grayskull." And there was another reason, but Adam didn't plan on sharing that with his father.

Randor steepled his fingers, glanced down at the missive, and then back up at his son. "I'll take you up on that. An entire troop of guards and three of your personal bodyguards."

"Not Raon," Adam protested. Understanding had still not quelled the anger he felt toward his friend.

"He is the Captain of the Heir's Guard, Adam. And I've spoken with him. He understands his duty better now."

Adam pursed his lips, but his father had agreed, so he decided he'd be better off not to argue overmuch with his stipulations.

Thus he set out within the hour in a windraider with Raon and Pirschan, flown by one of the palace guard. Two more wind raiders flanked him, and Quick-Wing flew overhead. Stratos flew point guard and Buzz-Off rear, and guards on wind raiders surrounded him. His father wasn't taking any chances this time. Mercifully, the trip to Castle Grayskull was short and the path largely uninhabited, so Adam didn't have to feel like a parade for long.

When they landed, Adam walked to the drawbridge which opened to him. _Only you, Adam,_ came the voice in his head. He turned to Raon, Pirschan and Quick-Wing who had formed up behind him. "I have to go into the castle alone, guys."

Raon looked troubled. "Your father said you might say that."

Adam raised his eyebrows. "And what did he tell you to do if I did?"

"To wait outside." Adam smiled tightly at his bodyguard and nodded. Then he turned and crossed the drawbridge into the castle.

He followed the halls to the Sorceress' audience chamber where he found her thoughtfully gazing into the window on the world that existed above her throne. It showed a view of Snake Mountain, and Adam wondered why she was looking at that place. She turned when he cleared his throat and soared down to meet him.

"Where is your sword?" she demanded immediately, her tone urgent.

He glanced up at the image in her window, and grimaced. "My bodyguards knocked it out of my hands and Clawful took it."

"So it, too, is at Snake Mountain," she said, turning her gaze back to the window. Adam nodded. "And your father's attempt to retrieve Man-At-Arms failed."

"Yeah," Adam said dejectedly. "And right now he's trying negotiation. That's part of why I'm here. Apparently Skeletor sent you a letter." He pulled the folded parchment out of his jacket and held it out to her. She took it with reluctance and broke the seal. Scanning it quickly, she pursed her lips. "It appears that your father's erroneous conclusion has reached Snake Mountain."

"What?" Adam asked. "What do you mean?"

"Skeletor wishes me to hand over Castle Grayskull for Man-At-Arms safe return. He appears to be under the misapprehension that Duncan and I have a relationship."

"But – don't you?" Adam asked, stupefied. "You guys are perfect for each other!"

"The Sorceress of Grayskull does not have outside entanglements, Adam," she replied calmly. "My life has been given over to Grayskull and to the protection of the power of the Elders, and I have neither the time nor the energy to devote elsewhere. Duncan is a good man, but I am bound."

"Oh," said Adam. This was an unexpected response, though he didn't know why. She'd always had a sense of distance, a sense of abstract purpose that intimidated him slightly. "What are we going to do?"

"We must retrieve both the sword and Man-At-Arms from Snake Mountain. I do not yet know how, but time will tell."

Adam had been hoping for a step-by-step plan with easy directions, but he hadn't really expected it. Not really. "I also need to consult the library. I'm on the trail of the Hand of Umalar, and I have a couple of references I still need to check. Do you mind?"

"No, Adam, of course not." She gestured him in the direction of the library. "I will give the situation more thought while you continue your research.

* * *

Duncan had no clear way of telling time. He'd seen neither sun nor moons since he'd been captured, but he thought it was about mid-evening when Evil-Lyn was called away. Now he was alone in her audience chamber, naked except for the leash, which was still around his neck. He'd tried once to remove it, but slipping his fingers between his skin and the collar caused a brief spasm of that same pain that Evil-Lyn was using to control him.

He sat down on the bed she'd replaced the couch with. It was twice as wide, but still had no covers. At the moment he was bound by the ankle to the wall, and bound by the leash to this bed. Both bindings allowed him adequate movement, but he didn't much care. While being chained to a wall was very frustrating, being tied to a bed by however long a cord was humiliating.

After his bath, Evil-Lyn had tied him down, arms and legs both, to feed him his lunch. It was a messy meal with a tangy sauce that she kept dribbling on him deliberately, then cleaning up with her tongue. She'd toyed with him all afternoon in various ways, then finally allowed him a nap. She had only just wakened him when Skeletor's voice sounded in the room. He'd looked around in alarm for the skull-faced man, but Evil-Lyn had shaken her head.

"He's not here, Duncan. He's just sending for me. I'll be back soon."

Duncan devoutly hoped not.

* * *

Adam burst into his father's office excitedly. He'd just gotten back to the palace and had taken a short detour to his room to ransack it for a book he remembered Orko reading to him when he was small. Holding it like the prize it was, he'd marched to his father's office.

Randor looked up wearily, and Adam could see that his injury was paining him. "Father! Have you been taking your pain killers?"

He nodded. "Yes, Adam. What have you found out? You look like you're bursting with news."

"I know what the Hand of Umalar does!" he exclaimed. "You'll never believe it, but I had the reference in my bedroom all the time."

"What?" Randor asked, leaning forward. Adam placed the book in front of him and waited for the response. His father looked at the book for a moment, turned it in his hands, then looked up. "This is a book of fairy tales, Adam. Is this a joke?"

"No, Father." Adam hooked one of the chairs that always faced his father's desk up close so he could sit down directly across from him. "It occurred to me last night that many of the authors who referenced the Hand of Umalar spoke of it as an item of out of legend."

"Yes," Randor said, looking dubiously at the book.

"I checked through all of the books last night, and they all speak of a specific text, the _Ondromigon_, a book of full of evil magical knowledge, but many of them also say that it was destroyed long ago by the Elders."

His father nodded. "So it was. I've heard of it."

"Well, apparently the Hand of Umalar was described in great detail in the _Ondromigon_, so many contemporary books just refer the reader to the descriptions there. Later books often seem to lament that the descriptions were lost. But I finally found something that made me wonder. The author of one of the books from Dovenar said that there was another description, in an old story, that might refer to the Hand of Umalar, but he wasn't certain. It wasn't a complete copy of the book, so I couldn't find the specific story he was referring to. The long and the short of it is, the story in that book called "The Invidious Arm of Orga" is actually a relatively accurate recounting of an event that took place long ago in Eternia, concerning the Hand of Umalar."

"You're certain."

"Certain enough to know that it scares me to death. I hated that story when I was little."

"I don't believe I've ever read it."

Adam shrugged. "It's page 412." His father flipped to that page and started reading.

* * *

Duncan had just nodded off again when the door to the room crashed open, revealing Evil-Lyn flanked by Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops. Alarmed, he jumped to his feet. Evil-Lyn pointed her staff at him and the energy flowed around him again, clothing him. Her eyes were dark with fury, and the grins on the men's faces told him that he was in very deep trouble indeed. The energy then pulled at him, dragging him out of the room as the trio backed out of the way. Evil-Lyn spoke the word that activated the third glyph on his back and he fell screaming to the floor. While he writhed in indescribable pain, the two goons bound his arms securely behind him in some kind of metal contraption.

When he was restrained, Evil-Lyn walked up and grabbed his head by the hair. "You've made me look the fool, Duncan. I don't like that." He wasn't sure what she meant, but she turned away and the others grabbed his arms and dragged him to his feet. They shoved him ahead of them through the halls, aiming him for walls and posts. Without his arms to help him keep his balance, he had limited success in avoiding the obstacles. Evil-Lyn just walked on ahead, ignoring him.

When they arrived at the throne room, Trap Jaw kicked the back of his knees, sending him sprawling.

"So, Man-At-Arms, you have been playing with us," Skeletor said in icy tones. Duncan struggled up to try to stand, but when Trap Jaw activated his arm cannon and pointed it at his head, he subsided into a kneeling position.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, trying to get his wits about him. What was going on? What had happened? Confusion and misery to the enemy and all that, but what had changed so drastically?

"You don't? Well, then look! Tri-Klops!"

The engineer gave a command to one of his shiny little drones and it showed a scene from the palace at Eternos. They were going to have to find some way to keep those wretched things out, Duncan thought in frustration. The view was his workshop, where Man-E-Robot and Roboto were working hard to finish the construction of a very familiar-looking object.

"Tri-Klops tells me that you did not design that contraption," one hand shot out from under Skeletor's cloak and pointed in the direction of the workshop where Ovarn's excavator sat. "Evil-Lyn's dim-witted apprentice Ovarn did."

"Yes. I told him that yesterday," Duncan said, bewildered.

"But you neglected to tell him that you were building one of your own, a better design that would withstand the rigors of the task ahead more successfully." Duncan began to see the source of their fury. It was ridiculous to assume that he would volunteer such information, but evidently that didn't matter to the lord of Snake Mountain.

"Why would I tell you that?" he asked reasonably, though he knew Skeletor was not a reasonable man. "You asked me to help rebuild Ovarn's machine, and I did what you requested."

Skeletor stood and leveled his skull headed staff at him. Duncan braced himself for a blow, not sure whether or not he would survive it, but the lord of Snake Mountain relaxed his aim and tilted his head. "You have a point, Man-At-Arms." Duncan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Perhaps he would live a few hours longer. "Very well. I will not punish you yet." Duncan heard a dissatisfied grumble from Tri-Klops and knew that he would have more trouble from that quarter. "But you must begin again and build me the machine that _you _designed. Evil-Lyn and Tri-Klops will be watching, so don't try to fool me again."

Duncan just stared up at the lord of Snake Mountain, not certain what to say. Evil-Lyn murmured something and the pain surged through him. He hunched, managing not to fall twisting on the floor at Skeletor's feet.

The pain stopped, and he found that Skeletor was now directly in front of him. He grabbed Duncan's hair and pulled his head up so that he was looking straight into those empty sockets. Adam was right, it was creepy.

"So, Man-At-Arms, what is your answer? I don't like waiting."

"All right, I'll build you the machine," Duncan said, options being what they were. Randor wouldn't thank him for getting himself killed.

"That's what I like to see, enthusiasm." He released Duncan's head and turned to Evil-Lyn. "Do you still want him?" he asked.

"Of course," the witch murmured. "I'm making great progress with him."

"The hell she is!" Duncan exclaimed.

Skeletor looked down at his furious face, then turned an amused look on Evil-Lyn. "He does not seem quite so convinced."

"Don't worry, Skeletor," she said, giving Duncan a hard look. "He's only playing hard to get."

The gathered minions laughed at this and Duncan flinched with humiliation. "Then take him, but be certain he is fit to work in the morning."

Evil-Lyn snapped her fingers, and he felt the tug of the leash on his neck once more. "Come along, lover," she said. He struggled to his feet amid jeers and leering catcalls. Skeletor had turned around and was ascending to his throne again. Duncan turned to follow Evil-Lyn out, stumbling over Tri-Klops' outstretched foot, but keeping his feet. This was going to be just ducky.

They returned to her audience chamber in silence, Duncan wondering just what she had planned. He suspected that Skeletor had threatened her, and she would be looking for payback.

She led him over to the bed and said, "Lie down, there's a good boy." He stood, staring at her for a moment and she raised an eyebrow. Sourly, he lay down on the bed on his back. She gestured and the cuffs on each corner shackled him down firmly while the clothes vanished. Again, she set aside her headdress and undressed herself slowly and sensually. He didn't dare take his eyes off her, fearful that she'd do something unexpected.

"So, Duncan," she said in a low, malevolent voice, climbing onto the bed to kneel across him. "You need a lesson in manners."

He blinked, uncertain where this could possibly be going. She held out a hand flat and spoke some unintelligible words and a vial containing some kind of viscous amber liquid appeared. She smiled at him and opened it, pouring the oil onto her hands. She began to stroke his chest slowly, rubbing the oil into his flesh where it left the skin sensitized to the slightest touch. She bent and kissed his cheek and his ears and began to nibble on the skin on his neck, sucking and teasing at the skin with her teeth and lips. Every brush of her breasts against the skin on his chest made him twitch as the sensation raced straight to his groin.

When he had reached the point of near explosion, she sat back and watched him, a sly smile on her face, not touching, not doing anything, just watching his expression. As he realized that she was indeed stopping, his eyes widened, for the sensation in his groin was nearing pain. Her smile broadened, and she said, "Ask for it, lover."

"What?" he choked out.

"Ask for it. You know you want it, you know you need it. So ask for it." He clenched his teeth and balled his hands into tight fists and looked at the ceiling. "There's no need to play the strong man, Duncan. We both know you want it."

He ignored her, concentrating on the steps for building a sky sled. She tapped his knee to draw his attention back to her, but he focused carefully on each procedure. Slowly, gradually, the tension eased on its own, and he let out a sigh of relief. The skin on his chest still tingled, but the crisis had passed.

Opening his eyes, he found Evil-Lyn looking down on him, unaccountably, still smiling. She held the bottle of oil and poured some more of in into her hands. When she started rubbing it into his legs, paying special attention to the insides of his thighs, he growled in protest. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

She didn't respond in words, just smiled knowingly and kept massaging the skin of his legs till they were as enflamed with sensation as his chest was. The inevitable physical reaction arose again, and she sat back, again. He stared at her, willing her to stop this torture.

"I can stop this, you know," she said casually, echoing his thoughts. "All you have to do is ask for it, dear Duncan."

Sky sleds – no, that wasn't going to work this time. He began reciting the multiplication tables in his head as far out as he could take them. It took longer, but he managed to calm down again.

"You're going to be a challenge, I can tell."

Duncan glared at her, refusing to rise to her bait, at least verbally. He had less control in other areas. She stood up and stretched luxuriously, then walked around to the head of the bed to run her fingers through his hair. He shook his head, trying to get her hands away from him, but he had nowhere to go. This was getting really old, really fast.

"Come now, Duncan, how hard is it to say?" she asked, stroking his cheek. Then she stood again and with a snap of her fingers, loosened the chains. "Get up," she ordered, tugging at the leash. Slowly, because his groin ached, he stood. His skin was still tingling as every slight movement sent air shifting across it.

"What is that stuff?" he asked.

"Oh, just a lovely little magical oil I designed. It only affects men."

"Charming. How long does it take to wear off?"

"Wear off?" she asked archly. He raised his eyebrows. She shook her head with a low chuckle. "It has to be dismissed."

Duncan shuddered. He had to get out of here before she killed him.

* * *

Adam's father finished reading and looked up at him. "The Hand of Umalar is a person?" he said, aghast.

Adam nodded. "Umalar was a demon who was worshipped as a god in the northern plains. The Hand of Umalar was his chief priestess, and he instilled a huge part of his powers into her."

"It doesn't say that in the story."

"Once I found the connection to Orga, I located a couple of other references in the Sorceress' library. Orga is her name, you see." He put three more books on his father's desk. "I marked all the right places."

Randor looked up at him, one eyebrow rising slightly. "Oh?"

"Now, most of the references just say it's extremely powerful and requires a sacrifice." Adam flipped open one of the books. "There are only two sources I've found that talk about the kind of sacrifice, and according to the Sorceress, Skeletor almost certainly has at least one of them."

"So he knows what he has to do."

Adam shook his head. "No, he thinks he knows. According to the source Stratos and Mother found, it requires the blood of two hundred innocents to awaken her – or it, since that book refers to her as an object. That's not strictly true. She will awaken the moment the prison is opened. The blood is only incidental to the deaths." Adam swallowed. This made him feel slightly ill. "She requires the souls to rejuvenate her. Or," Adam leaned close to the book, "'if she can drain the soul of a living Champion,' whatever that means, 'she will come to full strength in an instant and will reign for a thousand years of blood and torment.'"

"A living champion?" his father repeated. "That's not good. I begin to see why Skeletor might want her."

Adam looked up. "What do you mean?"  
"Well, Adam, there is a living champion. He-Man."

Adam blinked. "How do you recognize a champion, Father? I mean, are you sure He-Man fits the definition?"

"Most assuredly. He was foretold." Adam's jaw dropped, and his father went on, oblivious to Adam's personal astonishment. "When the Elders vanished I heard a voice speaking to me – I've since realized that it was the Sorceress. She said 'A hero will emerge to protect Eternia.' And when we needed him, He-Man was there."

Feeling more than slightly stunned, Adam stared at his father. "Oh." He shook his head. "But Skeletor wouldn't be thrilled to be ruled over by this priestess. I'm not sure he knows that part. It's kind of hard to find."

His father looked down at the books in front of him, and up at Adam. "I'm very impressed, Adam. What did the Sorceress think of your conclusion?"

"Well, I didn't have the fairy tale book to show her, but she agreed that it was a logical chain of deductions. When I ran across a reference to Orga, I remembered the story Orko used to read me, and everything just fit."

"All right. What do we need to do?"

"Well, the first thing we need to do is not dig her up. The Elders buried her for a reason."

Randor shook his head. "That's fine by me. But how do we convince Skeletor?"

Adam shrugged. "The second thing we need to do is work out how to get Duncan back."

"Were you able to find out what Skeletor wanted of the Sorceress?"

Adam nodded. "He wants her to turn over Castle Grayskull in return for him."

"I see." Randor looked very serious. "Obviously that's out of the question. My efforts have been fruitless so far. Is she responding to the offer?"

"No."

"Probably wisest for her not to engage him. I'll renew my attempts tomorrow."

Adam shook his head in frustration. "But Father, surely we should give up negotiation and try to get him back by force!"

"I'm not ready for that, Adam. I've got people working on a plan, but Duncan will have to hold on a little longer."

Adam stared at his father in shock. He couldn't believe his ears. If only he had his sword, this wouldn't be a problem. "Will you keep me posted?" Adam asked dispiritedly.

"Of course, Adam."

As he left his father's office, an idea came to Adam for a rescue plan of his own. It could work . . . It _would _work! He rushed immediately to Orko's room to see if he would help.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Evil-Lyn's bedchamber was both more and less feminine than he had expected. After her audience chamber and her choice of clothing for him, it was also less purple than he'd anticipated. His legs were trembling and he could barely stand, but when she told him to lay on her bed, he threw her a mute look of disbelief.

"I could just levitate you into position," she said. He shook his head in disgust, finally just refusing to move. A moment later he discovered that he adamantly disliked the feeling of being levitated. She let him drop to the bed from a foot up and he bounced a few times, remaining otherwise motionless.

"I'm not sure there's any point to this any more, Evil-Lyn," he said tiredly. "If I fall asleep, you'll just be annoyed."

"Oh, dear, are you tired?" she asked, her voice bright and falsely cheerful. "I can take care of that."

He turned horrified eyes on her as she pointed her staff at him. "No!" he exclaimed as the bolt of energy infused him, filling him with renewed vigor.

"See, it's an easy problem to solve." She sat down on the bed beside him. "Admittedly, this sort of thing can become addictive, but I don't think we'll have to do it very often. You have remarkable stamina."

"Thanks, I think," Duncan muttered, glaring at her, as she cuddled close to him and started nuzzling his neck. She curled close and threw a leg over his. A moment later, he realized that she had fallen asleep. Evidently, she'd needed a bolt of that energy herself. He was just thankful she hadn't realized it before conking out. She hadn't yet dismissed the power in the oil that she'd slathered him with. The skin on his legs where she was touching him sent little zings of heat to his groin, but he thought he could handle it. Then she stretched further and threw her arm across him, using his chest for a pillow. He closed his eyes. This was not happening. This could not be happening.

He finally drifted off, not very deeply, and had incredibly sensuous dreams, all featuring Evil-Lyn. In one particularly vivid dream, he thrust into the pliant woman beneath and she awoke with a squeal, her hands going to his shoulders where she gripped him tightly. He thrust rhythmically and she began to move with him, her legs coiling around his hips. When he kissed her passionately, her hands stroked up and down his back in time with their movement. He arched with pleasure at her touch and began to pump faster, burying his face in her neck, sucking and biting the tender skin there. She moaned in exhilaration as the rhythm grew faster, and began nibbling on his ear.

As he orgasmed, clutching her to him, the dream ended and he came to the sudden realization that he hadn't been dreaming at all. Evil-Lyn's legs were wrapped around him and she was moaning in his ear. He froze, horrified. She gradually noticed that he had stopped moving and reached up to stroke his face. "What's wrong, lover?" she asked. "That was amazing."

He pushed himself back away from her but found he could not escape her clutching legs. "Let go of me!" he yelled.

"Why?" she asked. "This time it was your idea." She reached up to his chest, stroking her hands along the still sensitized skin there and down his abdomen. He felt his body quicken and to his dismay he found that he was soon going to be ready again.

"I was asleep. I didn't know what I was doing!"

"I beg to differ."

"What have you done to me, woman?" he demanded. "Let me loose."

"Give in to it, Duncan. There's no point in resisting." Her hands trailed down his thighs and he closed his eyes, groaning at the sensations she was causing.

"I won't," he said firmly. "I will not."

Her legs tightened around him, pulling him closer and he suddenly found himself rolled onto his back. "Well, if you won't, I will," she declared, engaging in a suddenly flurry of kissing and nipping across his neck and chest. Automatically, desperately, he grabbed her arms to push her away and wound up holding her close. She smiled at him and gently disengaged herself from his clutching hands. Sitting up, she lowered herself onto him and ground against him till he couldn't stand it, but he still could not move. Finally, in a burst of poisoned pleasure, it was over and she rolled off him to lay panting on the bed beside him.

"Why would you deny yourself this?" she asked him between breaths. He growled, unable to respond. She sat up and laughed. "Oh, dear." She reached around him, causing him to groan as her body brushed up against his. She released both spells at once, and he relaxed as his body returned to normal. But she didn't release her arm around him. "Answer me, Duncan, why would you deny this pleasure to yourself?"

"Let me up," he said.

"Answer my question and maybe I will."

"You won't like my answer," he said. She shrugged and remained where she was. "I don't love you."

She looked at him incredulously for a few seconds, then she said, "That's it? You don't love me?" Shaking her head, she sat back. "So what?"

"If you don't know, I don't know how I'd explain it to you." He got up and looked around. "Is there a bath chamber in here somewhere?"  
"There's got to be something more than that, Duncan. You're a soldier, surely you've lain with at least one woman you didn't love."

He turned on her. "All right, you want more? You work for Skeletor. He was bad enough when he was Keldor, a greedy, power-hungry scoundrel who didn't care what he had to do to get what he wanted. Now he's Skeletor, a vindictive, sadistic madman who enjoys hurting people."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I guess that does about cover it. And I repeat, so?"

He threw his hands up in the air. "What can I say? I could never spend any amount of time happily with someone who goes around hurting people to get their jollies."

"I don't require that you be happy, Duncan. Just that you be here when I want you."

"Could you please direct me to your privy?" he demanded.

Smiling slightly, she pointed at a door and he went through it, trailing the leash behind him.

When he emerged she was dressed in some kind of flowing robe and was filing her nails. He had taken the time to bathe and he looked pointedly at her when she glanced up. Reaching out lazily, she pointed her staff at him and the clothes sprang into existence around him. He looked down to find that he was wearing skin-tight trousers of charcoal gray leather and a flowing shirt of purple silk.

"What is this?"

"Very fetching, but I don't think so." She tilted her head thoughtfully, then pointed her staff at him again. The purple and gray was replaced by He-Man's harness and fur loincloth. He looked down at himself with a mixture of horror and disbelief.

"No," he said firmly. "You might as well activate that third glyph right now, because I'm not going to that workshop dressed like this."

Her lips twisted and she let out a peal of laughter. "No, I suppose not. It doesn't really suit you, either. I guess it only works for big, blond and dumb."

"He's not dumb!"

"Oh? Have it your way." She pointed the staff at him and said, "How about royal regalia?" The power whooshed around him again and he looked down to find himself in Randor's clothing.

"I don't think so," he muttered. "I look ridiculous."

"Oh, I don't know. You have an air of kingly dignity about you."

"Evil-Lyn!"

"All right." She tapped her cheek, looking thoughtful.

"I do believe we're expected somewhere soon."

"You know, Duncan, this conversation sounds rather like an old married couple. Quite the quaint little domestic scene. Me choosing what you'll wear, you complaining we'll be late. And you were so attentive this morning."

"I don't know how you affected my dreams, but –"

"I did nothing to your dreams. That was all you, lover."

He shuddered and turned away. "I hope you don't mind my mentioning it, but Skeletor seemed quite prepared to do away with me last night. I don't think his temper will be improved if I'm late."

"Don't be such a spoilsport." She sighed and pointed the staff at him yet again. He looked down to find that he was wearing something that resembled his own clothing, minus the armor and the boots. He looked up at her. "There are benefits to making me happy." She got up and disappeared into the bathing chamber. "I'll be out in a minute."

Duncan sat down heavily in a chair. The leash wasn't gone, he noticed. He sighed deeply.

Evil-Lyn was out in mere moments, leading him to suspect that she dressed herself as she dressed him, by magic. They returned to the workshop where he went straight to work under the watchful eyes of Tri-Klops. Evil-Lyn disposed herself in her chair carefully, clearly placing herself on view. Duncan turned his back on her. As he reached for the tools, he noticed that Tri-Klops was staring at the witch, and he glanced at her to see what he was looking at. When he saw her neck, he quickly averted his eyes. Apparently, in his dream-induced ardor this morning, he'd left several cherry-colored marks on the skin there. He must have been dazed with sleep until now, because he hadn't noticed them before, though they stood out sharply against the pallor of her skin.

And it seemed that, for whatever reason, Tri-Klops didn't approve. Devoutly hoping that Tri-Klops wasn't harboring some unrequited passion for Evil-Lyn, he shifted uncomfortably, glad that his shirt, at least, had a high collar. Professional rivalry alone had been enough to induce Tri-Klops to murder.

Every time he had to spend even a few moments with his back to the three-eyed villain, Duncan felt an itch start between his shoulder blades.

* * *

Around noon, Evil-Lyn stood up from her chair and announced, "Lunch time."

"So?" growled Tri-Klops. Duncan looked up, only noticing that he was hungry because she'd said something. It was absorbing, this building a machine as slowly as one could.

"So, it's time for good little engineers to eat."

"Then send for some food, Evil-Lyn, and shut up."

She raised her eyebrows at her colleague and Duncan expected her to zap him, but she merely smiled and said, "Why don't you go out and get yourself some food, Tri-Klops?"

"What do you mean?" he demanded, staring at her in bafflement. Duncan turned and looked back down at the pieces he was assembling, very much afraid that he knew exactly what she had in mind.

"The operative word, Tri-Klops, is 'out.'"

Grumbling and glaring at Duncan, he left the workshop. "If you want him to kill me, you've hit on a good strategy," Duncan said mildly.

"Oh, he won't kill you. It would irritate Skeletor, and he's leery of that right now."

"He certainly tried hard yesterday."

"Yes, but that was in the heat of the moment. As long as I'm here, you're safe, Duncan dear." She walked up and tapped him lightly on the nose.

"That's a matter of opinion," he muttered, turning back to his work.

She walked up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. He tensed, but kept working, trying to ignore her presence. She slowly slid her hands down his arms, and when she reached his forearms she started pulling back. His left hand was holding a part of the machine, which he was forced to let go of, and, resigned, he dropped the wrench to the workbench. She drew his hands together behind him, kissed his palms, then with a wisp of a spell, bound them together.

"Here?" he asked incredulously.

"Where better? You're here, I'm here."

"I could leave."

She turned him and looked into his eyes. "You really ought to give over this pretending you don't want me, Duncan. Do people lie in their sleep?" He looked at the wall beyond her, refusing to even consider her question. She shrugged and caught hold of the leash, drawing him with her towards a low bench against the wall. She pulled it out so that it was perpendicular to the wall and made him sit down with his legs on either side. Walking around behind him, she placed a cloth around his head, over his eyes.

"What the –?" he exclaimed. She placed her hand lightly on his lips.

"Hush, lover," she murmured in his ear. He felt the rush of power as she stripped his clothes away again.

"Not here!" he protested. "What if someone came in?"

"What difference does that make?" she asked, her voice low with excitement. "If I don't mind, why should you?"

He could hear her footsteps on the stone floor, but he was having trouble locating her exactly as she moved around the room. Suddenly, she sat down in front of him, her legs draped over his, her body pressed close against his. She, too, was naked, and he quailed at the thought of rescue coming now, as she kissed her way across his chest and onto his shoulders.

Her hands explored his back and his buttocks, and quickly discovered where his skin was naturally most sensitive. He tried to stand up, to back away, but her weight atop his legs combined with the bound hands made that difficult. She ran her hands down his arms to the binding on his wrists, loosened it, then leaned him back on the bench and refastened them beneath the bench. This left her stretched out along the length of his torso, and she lay there a moment, sucking on his left nipple. Gritting his teeth failed to hold back the groan this elicited, and she chuckled richly.

"Try to pretend you're not enjoying this, Duncan, I dare you," she murmured. He was breathing deeply, trying to control his response, but his self-discipline was failing. As she let her hands roam across his body, he could feel himself begin to respond despite their public location, despite his general hatred of the situation, despite his loathing of her.

On this occasion she aroused him quickly, took her pleasure, then draped herself across his body. "Are you hungry, lover?" she asked, tracing shapes on the left side of his chest with her right forefinger.

"Yes," he said, wishing he weren't blindfolded. There was something about being tied naked and blindfolded to a bench in the workshop of a man who had already proven his desire to kill him that made Duncan feel insecure. Especially after that little display of what might have been jealousy this morning.

She let out a little sigh. "I suppose I should feed you," she said, sitting up.

"I can feed myself, thank you," he said with as much dignity as he could muster in this humiliating position.

"I actually meant that I should provide you with food, my darling Duncan. If you would prefer to be fed, however. . ." She let her voice trail off as she ran her hands across his chest.

"No!" he growled.

She laughed and snapped her fingers, releasing his hands, and, as he sat up rubbing his wrists, he felt the rush of energy as it created clothing around him. He reached up to remove the blindfold, but she was suddenly behind him again, and caught his hands, pulling them behind him once more to magically bind them.

"What are you doing now?"

"I'm going to feed you, lover." He dropped his chin to his chest, frustrated beyond the ability to form words. This was ridiculous. She tucked a finger under his chin and pulled his face up. "Come now, my dear. You need to eat. What does it hurt to play along?"

He took several deep breaths. He did need to eat, and she was perfectly capable of denying him food if he didn't please her. The part of him that knew he would survive one missed meal warred with the part of him that knew he should avoid antagonizing his captor whenever possible. Humiliation could be endured.

"Fine," he said, grinding the word out past his reluctance.

She sat down across from him, suddenly holding a plate of some sort between them and started popping tidbits of food into his mouth, periodically giving him something to drink as well. He reflected that of all the activities he'd endured at her hands, this was among the most bearable.

When the door opened, Duncan stiffened. Unable to see who was entering, he had all sorts of horrible visions. What would Randor think if he came in and saw him like this? If it were Skeletor, would he be angry? And with whom?

"What are you doing?" Tri-Klops demanded, anger filling his voice. Duncan sat motionless, thankful that he'd never been one to blush. Either Randor or Adam would be beet-red by now. That thought brought images cascading through his mind that he didn't need, not if he were to remain calm. Breathing deeply, he strove to banish the horror show.

"A training exercise," Evil-Lyn explained calmly, distracting Duncan quite nicely as fury mingled with mortification coursed through his veins. "We're not done. You can come back in an hour."

"Skeletor expects this machine to be built quickly."

Evil-Lyn's voice sharpened. "Skeletor knows all about this, Tri-Klops, and approves. If you have an objection, take it up with him." There was a brief pause and then the door clanged shut. What was going on here? Skeletor _knew_? A _training_ exercise? Training him for what? To do what? Right now it felt rather like obedience training. He shuddered. "Oh, Duncan, are you all right?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice. She kissed him lightly on the lips and he clenched his teeth. "Now, where were we?" she asked, stroking his cheek with a finger. "I believe we have almost reached dessert."

He stood up abruptly, and walked away, though he only went a few steps because he couldn't tell where he was going.

A few moments of concentration had banished the emotional upheaval. "If you really want me to stay, why are you humiliating me in front of your colleagues?" he asked in a neutral tone.

"Haven't you noticed? That's the norm around here. Each of them struggles to keep the others down while calling Skeletor's attention. It's really rather like a family, everyone seeking daddy's approval."

"Each of _them_?"

"I don't care if I get Skeletor's approval," Evil-Lyn protested defensively. "I just don't want his anger. It's so unproductive."

"Anger tends to be," he agreed. "Though I cannot imagine that man as your father."

"Oh, no. He's nothing like my father."

Duncan raised his eyebrows, and turned his head, irritated by his inability to see the expression on her face. She fell silent, then, and he decided that nothing more would be forthcoming on that topic. He took a deep breath, unsure precisely how she would react to his next question. "So, are you aware of Tri-Klops interest in you?"

She was quiet for a moment, then she said, "Why, are you jealous?"

"No, it's not that. I'm looking to my survival. Does he have some claim on you?"

She spoke and the glyph at the base of his spine activated briefly, sending pain shooting through every nerve. He dropped to his knees, hunched over and when he pain stopped, he didn't move. "No one has any claim on me!" she said in icy tones.

He wasn't sure if she wanted a response to that statement, so he opted for silence.

"Now, come here and sit down like a good boy." He didn't move. He didn't want to be anywhere near her. She spoke again, and this time the pain lasted longer. He fell onto his side and curled into a fetal ball, his shoulders aching from the way the spasms twisted his muscles. "Duncan, come here," she said in a low, persuasive voice. He rolled himself around to a sitting position and sat stubbornly, chin raised, teeth clenched against the punishment he knew was coming. She didn't disappoint him. He heard his voice as he screamed in agony, and he felt himself hit the floor.

* * *

He awoke to the sensation of a cold cloth being draped across his forehead. Blinking, he started to sit up, wondering where he could possibly be. "Lie back, dear," Evil-Lyn said solicitously, pressing gently on his shoulders. He looked up to see that they were in her room, and he was lying on her bed. "How'd we get back here?"

She shrugged. "Does your head hurt at all?" She wasn't wearing her headdress or the enormous collar, and her arms were bare.

"A little. What did you expect?"

"You are one exasperatingly stubborn man." She plumped a pillow and said, "Sit up a little." He complied, unable to puzzle out if this was a bizarre dream or if it was really happening. She slid herself and the pillow beneath him and picked up a small bottle of an orange oil off the bedside table.

As she put it on her hands and prepared to rub his temples, he stiffened. "No!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Duncan, this is a pain killer. It's primary ingredient is willow bark."

She touched her hands to the sides of his head, and when he didn't feel the sudden sensitization of his skin, he relaxed infinitesimally. It was impossible to relax completely with his head in Evil-Lyn's lap. Massaging his temples gently, she said, "You need to stop fighting me, Duncan. You can't win. You can't fight back effectively, and you can't leave. All you're doing is hurting yourself for no reason."

"I disagree."

"What possible reason could you have?"

"I don't want to stay here," he said simply.

"Is the bed uncomfortable?"

"Don't be deliberately dense, Evil-Lyn. I don't want to stay at Snake Mountain. I don't want to stay with you."

She sighed with an odd look in her eyes. "That will change in time."

The analgesic was having a soporific effect, and combined with the gentle rubbing of his temples, it was sending him to sleep. Struggling to stay awake, he said, "You don't make much sense."

"How so?"

"You torture me with intense pain, then give me pain killers. Doesn't that seem a little inconsistent?"

She sighed again. "I wish you'd stop forcing me to hurt you. I don't like it, you know."

"Then stop."

"Stop being stubborn and I might be able to," she said in soft, persuasive tones. "Just give in, Duncan. You'll be happier."

He couldn't argue with her effectively with his eyes drooping closed, and he didn't have the energy to move. "I'm falling asleep. Shouldn't we get back to the workshop?"

"Tri-Klops isn't expecting you back at work for another forty minutes. You can have a little nap." He sighed and fell asleep.

* * *

Adam was frustrated. He'd managed, after much persuasion, to get Orko to agree to his plan, but today he'd had no opportunity to carry it out. It was as if his father knew that he was going to go after Duncan himself and was taking steps.

The king had stopped by his room that morning, waking him up, and told him to get ready to give a briefing on the Hand of Umalar to the masters. The briefing had dragged on for hours, with everyone asking questions, some intelligent, some idiotic. Adam had barely resisted being sarcastic to Ram-Man when he asked how they could be sure she wasn't nice. He'd had to go through every step of his reasoning, and persuading some of them to take a fairy tale seriously hadn't been easy.

Then his mother had insisted on his taking lunch with her. His protests that he wasn't hungry and that he couldn't think about food with Duncan held at Snake Mountain and Skeletor trying to awaken an evil priestess had fallen on deaf ears. "Then you'll need to be at your best, won't you, Adam?" she had asked.

After lunch, his father had sent him to spar with Teela, who needed to be kept busy so she wouldn't do something foolish. If he ran out on that, they'd never forgive him. His suspicions that Randor was getting them to keep each other busy were confirmed when he noticed that one of the masters always seemed to be nearby.

Dinner at court that night seemed to drag on for hours, and when he finally got back upstairs to his tower room he was ready to scream with frustration. Quickly, he gathered the things he thought he'd need, put them in a bundle and threw open his window.

"Good evening, Prince Adam!" Adam leaned out the window and looked up, surprised to see Stratos sitting on the roof above.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Stratos gave him an innocent look and said, "Just getting a bit of night air."

Adam nodded. "Me too," he lied, letting his bundle drop to the floor. His father had thought of everything. He wondered if Teela was as thoroughly hemmed in.

* * *

_Please let me know what you think. I know it's not the most comfotable subject matter, but this isn't the whole of the story, I promise. Feedback is marvelously encouraging._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Duncan awoke to the sweet smell of lemon permeating the air. He opened his eyes and saw Evil-Lyn looking down at him. "Time to wake up, lover. Tri-Klops will be expecting us in five minutes. I brewed some tea for you."

He sat up and turned to look at her. "Why?" He didn't know how long he'd screamed that last time she'd hit him with the spell, but his throat was aching abominably.

"Why do you think, dear?" She picked up the mug and handed it to him. Glaring sourly at her, he drank it down. Honey and lemon combined to soothe his raspy throat. As he drank, she got up and began assuming her garb again. When he was done, she picked up his leash. "Come along."

_Obedience training indeed,_ he thought as he followed her out of her room. What else was he going to do, though? It seemed pointless to goad her into rendering him unconscious again. Where was Randor? He couldn't desire Adam to come, however, even if the sword was here. Adam as Adam was too vulnerable, too easily caught.

Tri-Klops was waiting impatiently when they arrived, glaring at Duncan, as if he blamed all the ills of his little world on him. Duncan ignored him and got back to work, slowly piecing together a machine he hoped would never be used.

Duncan could tell that Evil-Lyn called it a night long before Tri-Klops was ready for her to, but the minion didn't argue with her this time. He just glared and stomped out of the room. Evil-Lyn picked up Duncan's leash and raised an eyebrow. Breathing deeply, he walked up beside her and accompanied her to her rooms. It was a difference, but a small one. Perhaps if she thought he was responding to her 'training,' she would be less domineering.

When they entered her rooms, she stretched and let go of the leash. As she rose to full extension, her clothing changed and she was suddenly wearing the filmy, floaty thing she'd had on this morning. She aimed her staff at him and he found himself swathed in a heavy robe of deep crimson brocade edged in black. He looked down at himself and raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, it suits you admirably," she murmured. "Not at all appropriate for a laboratory or workshop, but for a quiet evening at home it will do nicely."

"A quiet evening at home?" he asked, frowning discontentedly. "I generally just kick off my boots and have a quiet dinner with Teela if we're not eating with the court. We discuss our days, I read my correspondence."

"Do you miss her?" Evil-Lyn asked unexpectedly, eyes dark and unfathomable.

Duncan had been doing his best not to think about his daughter because he missed her dreadfully. He couldn't imagine what she was going through at this moment, and he just hoped Randor would keep her out of trouble. "Of course, I do."

She sighed, and he was reminded of her comment about her own father earlier in the day. "I could bring her here, if it would make things easier for you."

"NO!" The shout was louder and more vehement than he had intended, and he found himself frozen in the midst of a step forward towards her.

Evil-Lyn took a startled step back and stared at him. After a moment, she tilted her head. "You've gotten yourself frozen again, haven't you?" His eyes must have spoken eloquently what he could not say, for she shook her head and walked around behind him. Reaching in through holes in his garment that he hadn't even known were there, she released the spell and he relaxed. "I wouldn't harm her, Duncan, she's a child. I just thought you would be happier if she were –"

"Nothing would make me less happy than having my daughter anywhere near Skeletor," he said with feeling. A moment later he wondered if this declaration had been wise. What if she decided to make him unhappy? Silence gives nothing away to the enemy, but silence was becoming impossible.

"All right. I won't bring her here. All you had to do was say no."

"You'll have to forgive me for not believing that, Evil-Lyn. I don't find you a particularly trustworthy soul."

She shrugged. "I'm completely trustworthy. You just have to remember that I'm selfish and greedy and will nearly always act in my own self-interest. Your best bet, dear Duncan, is to see that your interests and mine always coincide." Turning away, she left him standing near the doorway to her room, wearing this ridiculously opulent garb. "I'll be out in a moment, pet," she said, stepping into the bathing chamber. He was alone in her room. The image of Teela helpless at the non-existent mercy of Skeletor gave him the cold sweats. He sank onto a sofa and buried his face in his hands. Whoever said children were hostages to fortune was not wrong.

Evil-Lyn emerged from the bathing chamber and paused. He didn't look up, he was trying to still the trembling that had come over his body.

"Duncan, are you all right?" He didn't respond, and she sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. He pulled away, glaring at her. "You're trembling," she said, sounding alarmed. "What's wrong?" He shook his head, striving for control over himself. This was ridiculous. Teela wasn't here and she wouldn't be coming, Randor would see to it. "Are you worried about your daughter? I'm sure she's fine." Duncan could not stop his tremors, and they were growing more pronounced. Evil-Lyn stood up and dragged a blanket off her bed to throw across his shoulders. "It's not cold, Duncan. You're shivering."

"Leave me alone." But he took the blanket and wrapped it around himself. Perhaps this was some kind of delayed shock.

"I don't think so." She pressed a mug of some hot liquid into his hands, more tea, and knelt in front of him. "Don't worry so, Duncan. Nothing will happen to Teela."

He tried to ignore her, drinking the tea and taking deep, calming breaths.

She looked pensive for a moment then reached up and pulled something shimmery out of thin air. After a long time of peering into the little object, she turned it to face him. "See she's fine. She and the little prince." Duncan blinked, refocusing his eyes on the tiny mirror Evil-Lyn held in her hand. As he gazed into it, the image seemed to grow larger, and he could see Adam and Teela sitting in her room, playing cards. Neither of them seemed to be paying much attention to the game, and he could see what looked like the heel of an Andrenid foot outside her window. A moment later, he saw Stratos fly up past the window. He was right, Randor was taking strong precautions to keep them both from acting foolishly.

Then he looked up into Evil-Lyn's face. "How do I know this is true, and not just something you conjured up?"

She glared up at him. "I'm trying to do you a favor, Duncan! I've had this little device since I was living at the palace as Lady Asala."

"Why? Why are you trying to do me a favor, Evil-Lyn? You're tormenting me, torturing me, what is the point?"

"I don't like to see you this upset."

"Oh, I see. I'm no fun when I'm upset."

"You're over-analyzing, Duncan." She stood up, dismissing the little mirror as she did so. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked at him for a moment. "You're not going to be able to sleep any time soon, are you?"

"I doubt it."

She sighed and walked across the room, coming back with a tray containing a steaming teapot and warm muffins.

He looked up at her in utter bafflement. "You are peculiar, do you know that?"

"I try not to be too predictable," she said, smiling. Waving a hand, she called a table into being between them. It was a game table, he saw, wrinkling his eyebrows, set for a game of chess. She placed the tray to the side and sat down in a chair that had appeared behind her. "White or black?"

"What?"

"I think your daughter and the prince have the right idea. Playing a game is a good way to distract oneself from unpleasant thoughts. So, white or black?"

He could tell that she wasn't going to let up on him until he played, so he gave in. "Black."

The first game was swift, and he lost badly. She set the board up again, and said, "I expected better of you, Duncan. You're an excellent strategist in the field."

They played again, and the adrenalin slowly ebbed out of his system. He won the second game, but midway through the third, he yawned hugely. "I think I'm going to go face first on the table," he said, looking across the board at her.

"Well, then, you're no challenge. We'll continue this another time." With that she stood, dismissed the board and the extra chair and pulled him to his feet. "Bed time."

"Bed time?" he asked suspiciously.

"I don't like my men comatose, Duncan, you're safe from me tonight." She drew him into bed and curled up beside him. He wanted to move further away, but he fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the soft surface.

* * *

Adam was determined. He was going to find a way to escape from his overprotective nannies today. He did understand his father's reasoning, sort of, but this was the fourth day Duncan had been a prisoner at Snake Mountain. When were they going to do something more than send letters to Skeletor demanding his return?

At his father's request, he spent the morning in the library, looking for ways to defeat Orga. Unfortunately, she was a figure out of myth, a tale for children, so there wasn't much of a serious nature to be found about her. He would keep looking, naturally, but the fact was, he needed older texts than could be found in the palace library. Grayskull was a better bet, but he couldn't read the oldest books there.

A little red figure flitted into his office. "Are you sure about this, Adam?" Orko quavered nervously.

"Absolutely," Adam said. "Something has to be done."

"Your father is doing something, I'm sure of it."

"Not enough," Adam snapped. "Are we ready?"

"Just a minute." Orko began to wave his arms, and he threw a handful of snipped up feathers in the air. They landed all over Adam and disintegrated into dust. "Okay, now you're invisible to sight, but noise and odor and stuff are still there. It won't last long, so you'll have to hurry."

"Come on," Adam said. "If nothing else, we have to get my sword."

Orko nodded unhappily. He opened the door. "See you later, Orko," Adam called for his guards' benefit, and then he slipped out the door as silently as he could. Felinar and Nalineph were on duty at the moment, so he crept by Nalineph, not wanting to attract Felinar's Qadian nose and ears. Adam snuck down the corridor and out into the palace grounds. Duncan had a spare skysled out behind the lab, in case of emergency, and it wasn't likely anyone would notice it was gone, especially not late in the night. He just hoped his father was already in bed, or he was likely to be found missing sooner than he wanted.

* * *

Duncan awoke to the sensation of a warm body cuddled close against his side and a head resting on his chest. Had Teela had another nightmare about Adam being tortured? It didn't feel quite right, she usually curled into a ball up against his back. He was worried. If this continued, he was going to have to make her go see that counselor that Dorgan recommended. Ovarn had a lot to answer for . . .

As he thought the imposter's name, the realization struck him that he wasn't at home. Opening his eyes gingerly, he looked down to see the closely cropped white hair of Evil-Lyn resting on his chest. Her face was turned to the side, and she was still asleep. His arms were around her, and one of her arms was flung across his abdomen. A bent knee rested between his legs.

He was alarmed by just how natural this intertwining felt. Perhaps he had been too much alone these last few years if cuddling up to Evil-Lyn felt good. He started to try to pull away, but even in her sleep she held on to him. Subsiding, for he didn't really want her to wake up, he lay there reflecting on this situation.

It was clear that Skeletor had more than one agenda in mind, and he wondered if the lord of Snake Mountain really hoped to keep him here in the long term. He wondered what was going on at the palace, what Randor was doing. What if he were more badly hurt that Evil-Lyn had indicated? The image of Randor lying in the infirmary, wracked with wound fever, or in a coma, maddened Duncan. He clenched his teeth in helpless fury. Not knowing how Randor was, what had actually happened, was unbelievably frustrating. The last time he hadn't know where Randor was, his friend had been captured by Skeletor.

Adam would be distraught if his father was seriously wounded, and it would stake his foot to the floor in Randor's place. Duncan wanted to be there by his side. Adam wasn't ready to rule on his own yet.

If Randor were dead, though – his mind shied away from that dreadful thought, but he forced his feelings aside to consider it. If Randor were dead, Adam would be crippled with grief, and it would keep him wrapped up in government for weeks to come.

But if Randor were dead, Skeletor would surely have gloated by now. Evil-Lyn, too. Unless they wanted him to be docile, waiting for rescue. As if he could save himself. Though he hadn't actually tried yet to leave Snake Mountain. Perhaps she was lying. Perhaps she was counting on the efficacy of the other two spells to persuade him that the third one would work.

The more he thought about this, the more he wondered if he hadn't been a fool from the start to believe her. He reached to the side and grabbed a pillow. Gently, he disengaged her grip, trying not to waken her in the process. Then he slid his chest out from under her head, replacing it with the pillow. Finally, he lifted her leg slightly to allow himself to slip free, and then he stood up. He was still wearing the garments she'd dressed him in the night before, thank the Elders, because attempting to escape while naked did not strike him as feasible.

He opened the door and peered out. No movement disturbed the silence of the hall outside. He slipped through the door and shut it quietly behind him, then tread softly down to the corner. All was quiet, and he snuck from corner to corner in the fortress, meeting no one.

As he peaked around one corner, he saw Panthor sleeping. Cats were notoriously light sleepers, but he had to keep going or give up. Tiptoeing past the enormous feline was tricky, but he managed it, only relaxing when he was several corridors away.

Finally, he found his way to the ground floor and made his way along the halls to the surface exit. There he heard movement, and, greatly daring, he leaned around to assess the situation. There was one guard, just inside the building. Merman. Duncan smiled with genuine pleasure. He owed that particular villain for several past incidents. This could be fun.

Creeping up behind the scaly reprobate, Duncan slammed him against the wall that was at his side. Seizing his head, he thumped it into the wall until the wiry fish-man stopped struggling. Then he turned to the open path out. He was at the exit to Snake Mountain. He walked right up to the threshold and there his feet stopped. He willed himself to walk forward, but he could not bring himself to take the next step. He stood, every muscle in his body tense, poised at the exit to the stronghold, unable to move even an inch toward freedom.

"I wondered how long it would take you to attempt this," a voice drawled behind him. He whirled to see Skeletor standing about ten feet off, watching him. "Evil-Lyn has many failings, but her skill in magic is not among them." The lord of Snake Mountain approached Duncan. "I suppose she forgot to chain you up, last night. I shall have to chide her for that later."

Duncan clenched his fists at his side. Attacking Skeletor would gain him nothing but new injuries. If he could not step across the threshold, he could accomplish nothing.

Skeletor walked around behind him, walking across the invisible barrier that had halted Duncan as if it wasn't there. "Come, Man-At-Arms," he said, giving him a light blast from his staff which sent him stumbling away from the doorway. "I imagine your keeper will be looking for you shortly."

As if she'd been listening for her cue, pain surged suddenly through him, sending him to the floor. While he writhed in agony, he could hear Skeletor's cacophonous laughter echoing through the halls. Evil-Lyn arrived a few moments later.

"Skeletor!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with dismay.

"Good morning, Evil-Lyn," he greeted her. Duncan could hear them speaking even though his body was still wracked with pain. "Don't you think this is the image to send Randor? His trusty right hand man twisting on the floor in agonizing pain?" _No!_ Duncan thought desperately, but he could not speak. "His offers are growing most intriguing." _Offers?_

"Are you seriously considering any of them?" Evil-Lyn asked. What was Randor playing at? He couldn't give any concessions to Skeletor, no matter what.

"Afraid of losing your toy? My dear Evil-Lyn, I would trade _you _to them if they were to offer me Grayskull. But they won't, so you needn't worry. As long as he continues to behave, you can keep your plaything." There was a pause, and Duncan wondered what they were doing. He wasn't blacking out. How he wished he could command his senses to leave him. "His moans are becoming annoying. Do allow him to desist."

The pain ceased abruptly and Duncan lay limply on the floor between them, burning with humiliation. He felt like a damp towel, unable to move even though the floor was rough and sharp edges dug into him.

"It doesn't look like he'll be much good for work today."

"There are ways to reenergize him," Evil-Lyn said.

"See to it, then. And carry on with his training. These little setbacks are to be expected, after all. He's a strong man. It will take time to bring him to heel."

"Yes, Skeletor."

"However, if he gets away from you again, Evil-Lyn, I know that Beastman has a cage in the menagerie that would suit him fine. And if he's killed Merman, I will be very put out."

With that, the lord of Snake Mountain stalked off, his cloak brushing across Duncan as he passed. Some semblance of muscular control was returning to Duncan, but before he could do more than turn his head, Evil-Lyn went on one knee next to him and twined her fingers in the hair at the base of his skull. "If you really wanted to try this, Duncan darling," she murmured in a vituperative tone. "I could have brought you here myself." The gentle way her fingers were caressing his scalp and the back of his neck was at odds with the venom in her voice.

Irritated, he shifted sideways and sat up, glaring at her. "I have no intention of staying here, Evil-Lyn. One way or another I will escape."

"No, you won't. And Randor is doing nothing but sitting in his palace sending letters to Skeletor, making ludicrous offers that we know he would never follow through on. I think he's trying to extend your life." She leaned forward, caught his hands and drew him to his feet as she stood up. Stepping close, she traced the line of his clenched jaw with her finger. "Little does he know that Skeletor won't kill you, and won't trade you for anything short of Castle Grayskull. And we both know that's not in Randor's power to give." Her finger strayed from his jaw to his lower lip and he turned his face away from her. She began running her fingers through his hair. "And it appears that your sweetheart, the Sorceress of Grayskull, has abandoned you. She hasn't responded to any of Skeletor's requests."

"She's not my sweetheart," Duncan growled irritably. He was going to have a talk with Randor later about jumping to conclusions.

"Oh good. I don't like rivals."

His gaze snapped back to hers, and he saw that her face bore none of the mocking he saw there so frequently. She was serious. "Rival for what? That doesn't even make sense!"

Her eyes snapped violet fire. "You are mine, Duncan. No one is going to stand in the way of that."

"You have no claim on me, woman!" he declared angrily.

"Oh, but I do." She snapped her fingers and the leash sprang into existence again. "And you will acknowledge it, sooner or later."

* * *

Adam set his sky sled down just outside the patrols from Snake Mountain. "You should go back to the palace, Orko," he said.

Orko shook his head, though he was visibly shaking. "I'd better wait for you."

Adam considered this. "If I don't come back in four hours, you go back to the palace and tell them what I've done."

"You want me to tell the king that I helped you sneak into Snake Mountain?" Orko exclaimed. "I –"

"He'll be mad at me, Orko, not you," Adam said persuasively. "And if I'm not back by then, I'll be in trouble."

He knew he'd chosen his words poorly when Orko stiffened and took on an almost authoritative stance. "You shouldn't do this," the little Trollan said firmly. "It's not safe!"

"Nothing's safe," Adam countered. "I'm going, Orko, and that's final, with or without your help."

"You can't go into Snake Mountain looking like yourself, Adam. You'd be handing yourself to Skeletor on a platter."

Adam glared at him. "I will if you don't help me."

Orko twisted the hem of his rope unhappily. "No, no, I'll help," he said. He began to cast a spell, and Adam held still. He remembered the potted plant incident vividly, but he wasn't going to do anything to shake Orko's confidence. Not with all that was at stake right now. His whole body seemed to be on fire for several seconds, and then he felt a cool breeze rush past. He looked down at himself and saw unfamiliar legs with a knee that was higher than his own. He bent his leg and the knee bent at the right angle. Turning his gaze forward, he realized that he was looking out through chest of the illusion that shrouded him.

"It worked!" Adam exclaimed, and he jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. It came from about six inches above the top of his head, and it sounded like Tri-Klops.

"It worked," Orko said, hovering nervously nearby. He didn't sound nearly as pleased as Adam did. He was looking up above Adam's head towards the face of the illusion. "It didn't change you at all, but now you have an illusion of Tri-Klops cloaking you. You can walk right into Snake Mountain and no one will know it's you. Evil-Lyn might be able to tell, so you'd better avoid her."

Adam nodded. He set out to walk the final three miles to Snake Mountain, leaving Orko behind to guard the skysled.

* * *

Reviews are love.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's note: Please forgive the tardiness of this posting._

**Chapter 8**

Evil-Lyn took Duncan back to her chamber on a short leash, tied him into the tub and bathed him herself, very thoroughly. When she was done, she left him tied and combed his hair, braiding it into a queue and tying it off neatly. He objected and fumed, but nothing he said persuaded her that he could manage these events for himself. Finally, she let him out of the tub, dressed him again, and took him back to the workshop. Once more attired in shorts and sleeveless shirt, he set to work.

They had barely finished the chassis of the machine, and he could tell that Tri-Klops wondered if he was stalling. "What's taking so long?" Tri-Klops demanded around mid-morning.

"I have to make sure everything's properly calibrated," Duncan said calmly. "Your tools aren't the same as mine, and I'm having a little trouble adjusting for the difference."

He wasn't sure the other tech believed him, but he didn't let on, continuing to build this version of his machine and the same slow pace. He tried to guess from the little he'd been able to see in the Doomseeker's image how far along Manny and Roboto had gotten on the one back at the palace. He'd worked on it for perhaps a day and a half before other matters cropped up, so they probably had a good two days work left on it, even with Roboto keeping at it around the clock.

Not that their time table made much of a difference as far as he was concerned. He wasn't finishing this excavator, and there was little that either Evil-Lyn or Skeletor could do to force him. He dawdled the pieces together

He was thankful that Evil-Lyn didn't call for a long lunch, but she did end the day early as far as Duncan could tell. He glanced aside at the Power Sword as she led him past it, wishing there was some way he could get it back to Adam.

A tug at his neck drew his attention forward again. Reflecting that moral scruples could be more trouble than they were worth, he followed. Randor had decreed that killing was a poor way to change a person's mind, and he agreed with him. But sometimes people needed to be dealt with more permanently.

When they were behind the closed door of her room, she turned and changed his clothes again. He looked down to see that he was now wearing nothing more than a pair of obscenely tight leggings of some kind of silky crimson material, with bracers to match. He glanced up at Evil-Lyn to find her gazing upon him with amusement, now clad in a close fitting gown of the same crimson that hugged every curve of her figure from neck to knee. "I think you look charming, lover," she said, a chuckle in her voice. He crossed his arms resignedly.

"What now?"

"Now?" She waved a hand, bringing back the game table from the night before, still set for the game they had not completed. "Now we finish the game and have a spot of dinner. I, for one, feel the need for some sustenance to keep me going. Tonight will be a long night."

Grimacing at the promise in her voice, he sat down across from her at the table. "It was your move," he said. A steaming mug of tea appeared at his right elbow and a plate of piping hot meat pastries appeared on the left side of the table.

After they'd eaten and played a couple of games, Duncan looked up. She was concentrating on her next move, brow furrowed, when he cleared his throat. "I don't suppose – I wondered –" He didn't like asking her for something, and he was having trouble getting the words out.

"Speak up, lover." She smiled at him and, reaching out, took his left hand which was resting on the table, turned it over in hers and began tracing the lines in his palm. "What do you want?"

"Could you show me Randor?" he asked. "You said he wasn't severely injured, but –"

"But you aren't sure you believe me. I can show you anything your heart desires, Duncan. Are you sure you want to see Randor?"

"Yes."

"This will take a few minutes. I have to concentrate hard on the subject." She pulled the mirror out of the air again and began to peer into it, her eyes going distant. He watched her curiously. Her face, when smoothed of its habitual mocking expression, was quite lovely, indeed. He wondered what her history was. Who was her father, this man who differed so from Skeletor? And where had she grown up? He knew so little about her. They knew a fair amount about most of Skeletor's minions, but Evil-Lyn had always been an enigma, appearing from nowhere as a full-fledged evil sorceress at Keldor's right hand. It behooved him to learn more about his enemy.

She looked up and turned the mirror so that he could see it. Once again, as he looked, the image seemed to grow in his eyes so that he could see it more clearly. Randor stood in the middle of Adam's tower bedroom. Stratos stood by the window, and two of Adam's bodyguards – a pair he recognized as being on the evening shift – waited uneasily by the door. Raon was talking animatedly to Randor, whose face was a mask of fury. He cut off the bodyguard's words with a curt gesture and turned to question Stratos. A moment later, what was wrong with the scene hit home with a vengeance. It was Adam's room and Adam's father was there, Adam's bodyguards were there, but Adam wasn't.

Teela strode in followed closely by Ram-Man and Mekanek. She reported to the king, apparently a negative, and Randor's face turned from fury to desperate worry. Where was Adam?

Evil-Lyn, observing the look on his face, pulled the image away from him. He reached out to catch her wrist, to stop her, but his joints locked up and he sat frozen. She was perceptive enough to recognize the signs that he had seen. He itched to stop her as she peered into the mirror with interest. "That's Adam's bedroom," she murmured after a moment. "But where is young Prince Adam?"

Randor had an easy way of finding out, Duncan pondered, but of course Duncan had hidden the ferret's viewer to keep the king from looking into it at a bad moment and discovering his son turning into He-Man. He'd always expected to be present should anything happen to Adam again.

Evil-Lyn had fallen silent again, gazing intently into the mirror once more. Was she attempting to call up another image? He waited, only his restraints keeping him from drumming his fingers on the table. Finally, she blinked and a slow, pleased smile spread across her face. "How absolutely delightful! What a thoughtful boy."

Dismissing the mirror, she stood up and walked around behind Duncan to release him from his paralysis.

"What did you see?" he demanded, turning to face her. She threw her hands into the air and transformed her clothing into her usual outdoor wear. Pointing her staff at his ankle, she locked the cuff around it again. He stood up, fists clenched at his sides to keep himself from seizing her and shaking till her teeth rattled. "What's going on?"

She flashed a broad smile at him. "You'll see soon enough, Duncan. But I'd better hurry, or this chance will be lost." And with that she was out the door and gone. Duncan jerked on the chain until his ankle was bloody, but he could not budge either the cuff or the links. He sank into the sofa. What was it she'd seen? Where was Adam? What idiotic stunt had that boy pulled now?

* * *

Adam walked down the corridor of Snake Mountain, trying to seem as if he belonged there. Orko's spell had clearly worked. He'd gotten past Trap Jaw at the gate with only a slight widening of the eyes. He just hoped he wouldn't run into Tri-Klops while he was here. It could be difficult to explain why there were two of him.

When Evil-Lyn appeared around a corner, he kept his face as expressionless as possible and just kept walking toward her, trying to come across as the taciturn Tri-Klops, hoping desperately that she wouldn't see him for what he was. Maybe Orko was wrong. She smiled at him and put a hand on his arm. "Tri-Klops, I have something I need to discuss with you."

"What?" Adam asked, the gravelly voice of the enemy technician sounding odd in his ears.

"It's about Man-At-Arms," she said. Adam's heart quickened, and when she gestured that he precede her through a doorway, he did so. The floor dropped away unexpectedly beneath him and he fell heavily to his hands and knees. Springing back to his feet, he turned to see that there was no longer a visible door in the wall behind him. In fact, he could see no sign of door or window in any wall. He was in a barren black box, with no way out.

"What are you doing, Evil-Lyn?" he demanded, expecting that his voice would come out as Tri-Klops'. When he heard his own voice instead, he looked down at himself in surprise to see that the illusion Orko had created was gone. With a chill, he remembered that the imposter had been trained by Evil-Lyn, which made the black box cell all the more ominous.

"Good evening, Prince Adam," Evil-Lyn's voice sounded around him. "It's a pleasure to have you in my care. In fact, you've no idea just what a gift you've given me."

Adam stared in horror around at the walls of his prison. "Where's Man-At-Arms?" he demanded, but his question met only silence. He walked over to the nearest wall and kicked it. This was just great. In Snake Mountain for ten minutes and he was already captured. How was he going to explain this to his father? Assuming he ever got out of here.

A vague, oppressive sense of claustrophobia caused him to clench his teeth. He was going to get out of here and help Duncan. Somehow.

* * *

Duncan stood up nervously when Evil-Lyn returned. The gloating look of triumph on her face gave him no ease. "What have you done?"

"I suppose you could say that I rescued your imprudent little prince from the possibly catastrophic results of his own folly." Duncan's misgivings must have shown on his face, for she laughed merrily. "He's quite safe, my dear man. And will remain so, as long as I obtain certain assurances from you."

"I don't believe you have him," Duncan said, though he feared his tone was not convincing. What had Adam done?

She reached out and pointed to a spot in mid-air with her staff. An image rose up of a small room and Adam sitting cross-legged in the center of it. "He yelled quite a lot at first, but he calmed down after awhile."

Duncan stared in utter horror. It couldn't be true. She was creating this. It was an illusion, not an image of reality. Suddenly, Adam shot to his feet, shaking his fist at the ceiling. "You're as bad as the imposter!" he yelled. "Where's Duncan? What have you done to him?" The boy stared angrily at the ceiling for a moment longer, then thumped back down to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

"How long have you had him?"

"An hour, perhaps ninety minutes. I wanted to make sure there was no pursuit or back up. That little jester from the palace was hanging around outside. I froze him and put him somewhere safe, where nothing will eat him. He'll wake up in a day or so. In the meantime, I have the prince, and no one even knows where he's gone."

"What will Skeletor do –"

"Oh, but Duncan, that's the best part of all," she exclaimed, stretching and allowing her garments to shift back to the close-fitting red dress. "Skeletor doesn't even know I have him. Only you and I know that." She chuckled. "Oh, and the prince himself, of course, though he hardly counts."

Duncan sat down hard. No one, not even Skeletor, knew she had Adam. "What are you going to do with him?"

"That all depends on you, my dear Duncan." She smiled at the alarmed look on his face. "I suspect he's such an innocent that he would be easy to mold, easy to bend to my will. Quite trainable, really."

Duncan looked up at her. "He's sixteen, Evil-Lyn. A child."

"Oh, no, Duncan. He's a young man, with a young man's drive and hormones. I doubt it would be difficult to get him interested, and once I've got his undivided attention –"

Duncan launched himself at her, forgetting the spells, forgetting everything. She skipped nimbly to the side as he landed on the floor.

She knelt beside him, stroking his back and leaning close to his ear. "There is an alternative, lover. A simple alternative that will leave your charming Prince Adam as untouched and virginal as he was when he arrived."

Duncan closed his eyes. What was she going to demand of him? She touched his back and released the paralysis and he got slowly to his feet. "What do you want?" he asked, knowing that, whatever it was, he would give it to her.

She smiled, and he read the same knowledge in her face. "I want you, Duncan."

"You have me," he replied, confused.

"No, Duncan, I have your body and I can play with it as I like. I want _you._"

He glanced at the image of Adam, who was hunched up in the middle of his prison, clearly having a reaction to the small size of the space. The claustrophobia he'd developed after his imprisonment was obviously affecting him. She raised a hand and Adam's shirt and jacket vanished, to reappear on the floor at his side. Adam jumped up in alarm.

"What are you doing?" Duncan demanded angrily.

She waved her hand again, and metal cuffs appeared on the boy's wrists. "What – what's going on?" he cried, staring at his wrists and then gazing at the ceiling. Another quick gesture and Adam was pushed by some invisible force to the wall in a position that mirrored the pose Trap Jaw and Whiplash had first placed Duncan in on his arrival here. "Let me go!" Adam shouted, panic edging into his voice.

"You know what comes next, Duncan," Evil-Lyn said, walking around behind him and removing his shirt with a gesture. She touched the skin of his back, tracing the shapes he knew were there. "Do you want to see magical glyphs inscribed on your prince's back? I might even send you home. I do have something of a one-track mind when it comes to men."

He whirled, barely resisting the urge to seize her arms. "Evil-Lyn, don't do this," he said desperately. He wasn't sure she was serious, but he couldn't take the chance. He gulped. Her eyes were on the image, and he turned to look at the boy who struggled against the invisible bonds that held him to the wall of his prison.

"He's not badly built for so young a man," Evil-Lyn said contemplatively, "and I'm sure he'll fill out as he gets older."

"What exactly do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I want you to give in. To stop resisting me and my little games. I want you to join in."

Duncan blinked. Adam was giving way to panic, and his yells were growing hoarse. "Let him down," Duncan said colorlessly.

"Do you agree?"

"Yes, anything. Let him down."

The cuffs came loose from the wall and vanished off Adam's arms. He scrambled back into his clothing and stood in the center of the room, arms crossed tightly on his chest, panic still lurking in his eyes.

"Now, there's one thing more."

"More?" Duncan demanded, turning his eyes on her.

"Yes, Duncan, more. I doubt that I would have too much trouble capturing him again, so I'm going to offer you something else, but there are conditions."

"What are you talking about, Evil-Lyn?"

"I will let him go. Return him to the palace, see that he's safely found by his father."

Duncan looked back at Adam, who still looked frankly terrified. "What do I have to do?"

"I will bring him to see you." Duncan narrowed his eye suspiciously. What did she have in mind? "You must persuade him that you are staying here of your own free will. That rescue is pointless because you don't want it."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Duncan asked incredulously.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." She walked up to him and placed her hands on his chest. "You have time to think about it, lover." He looked down into her eyes, and she lifted one hand from him long enough to dismiss the image of Adam. "I want proof of payment on the first part of the bargain tonight."

He stared at her, arms hanging motionless at his sides. Smiling, she stepped back and, with a gesture, dismissed both their clothes. Then she took up a provocative pose leaning against the bedpost. "Come on, lover. Fulfill your side of the bargain."

One step after another, he walked over to stand in front of her, uncertain what to do. But Adam's fate was in his hands, and he could not fail the boy. No matter what, Evil-Lyn could not get her hands on him in that way, dignity and pride be damned. He knew that believing her, trusting that she would keep this promise was unwise, but he trusted that she would violate Adam if he didn't do as she asked. There was no choice to be made.

He put his hands on her shoulders and stroked down her arms. Smiling slyly, she moved her arms out of the way, and placed his hands on her waist. "Come on, lover," she murmured again, her hands on his hands, guiding them upward till his thumbs were brushing against the bottoms of her breasts. He bent and kissed her. She opened her mouth eagerly under his, but let him guide the kiss. He tried to lose himself in the sensation, to forget himself.

Turning his head aside from her mouth, he kissed down the side of her neck. "This is wonderful, Duncan," she murmured in his ear. "Don't stop." She took his earlobe between her teeth and her hands began stroking his lower back and buttocks. He raised his hands to cup the sides of her breasts and, taking a deep breath, stroked her nipples with the rough skin of his thumbs. She arched into him, letting out a little moan of delight. Her hands tightened on his back and began to move with more urgency. He toyed with the soft skin of her breasts, kissing and biting her neck, then he moved his hands to her back. Bending, he cupped her buttocks in his hands and lifted her into his arms. She squealed at this unexpected turn of events, but he found himself frozen in place, his hands under her, her body pressed against his.

"Duncan, what are you . . . oh." She laughed. "I think I'm going to have to alter that spell slightly so that it doesn't cover sexual contact." She paused. "Sexual contact not meant to hurt. Release."

Duncan lowered her gently onto the bed and knelt over her. "Evil-Lyn, no matter how angry I might get at you, I would never do something like that."

She smiled up at him. "You're most adorable when you're self-righteous." Her fingers pulled at the hair on his legs. Rolling his eyes, he bent over her and kissed her until his heart was racing. His hands were stroking her breasts and belly, and her hands were busy on his back. The internal struggle to give in to sensation gave way abruptly as he thrust into her, causing her to gasp in shocked glee. She moved with him, wrapping her legs around him and holding him close. They orgasmed together and she clung to him, kissing him intensely as their passion climaxed and then plateaued.

He stayed above her for a moment, breathing deeply, then he rolled over and lay flat on the bed. He didn't know what to think or feel, and he didn't want to do either very much. Evil-Lyn lay beside him, panting. Finally, she rose up on her elbows. "Roll over, lover," she said.

"What? Why?"

She rolled so that the entire length of her body was against his and lay one of her legs between his. "Because once isn't enough, lover, and I want you to be free of constraints in this."

Mindful of the bargain, knowing the power she held over him, he rolled onto his stomach. She spent a few moments stroking his back, and for once, her touch felt clinical. He thought she must be trying to decide just how to alter the spell to create the affect she wanted. Then she got up and walked to a cabinet. When she returned, it was with a small bottle and brush. She added a few strokes to the design on his back, activated it with her staff, then put the staff aside.

"All right, lover, now you are free to –" She broke off with a start as he rolled over and pinned her to the bed. "Duncan, I –"

He kissed her fiercely, all the passion of his rage transforming in an instant to ardor. Refusing to think, refusing to consider, he let sensation and lust overwhelm him and made love to her intensely and without reserve.

When the frenzy left him and he came to himself again, he sat up, looking down at her, appalled and horrified by his own actions. _How could I have done that? What came over me?_ She lay breathing deeply for a few moments, coming down from the excitement, then she opened her eyes and gazed at him with approval. He suddenly wanted to get as far away from her as he could. He sat back on his haunches and closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hands.

She sat up and got onto her knees and put her hands on either side of his face, pulling up so that he would look at her. He opened his eyes and gazed into hers. She was smiling, a soft expression devoid of mockery or superiority. "Do it again, Duncan," she said quietly, then leaned in for a long kiss which, after a moment, he returned. They fell down onto the bed together, trading pleasure for pleasure.

She fell asleep when they were done, face relaxed and innocent. Without her clothing, her extraordinary manner, her attitude, she looked like anyone. He disentangled himself from her clutching limbs, stood up and went into the bathing chamber. He looked at himself in the mirror, the familiar face, the hair hanging around his eyes, the bites and cherry-marks on his neck, the bite mark on his left shoulder, then he turned abruptly to the privy and threw up. When he had rid himself of dinner, he sat back, breathing slow, deep breaths, trying to regain his control. He hoped he had not awakened Evil-Lyn, for she might find this reaction less persuasive than his earlier ones had been.

He sank himself in her tub and scrubbed his skin until it stung.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When Evil-Lyn walked into his cell the next morning, Adam scrambled to his feet, not feeling at his best. He hadn't slept much, and what little sleep he'd gotten hadn't been restful. And the last time he'd been this close to Evil-Lyn, she'd been egging Skeletor on to kill him. Furthermore that strange incident last night had made him as skittish of her as Cringer.

"Well, Prince Adam, you do look a mess," she said, stopping in the doorway, one hand on her staff, the other on her hip. He glared at her, making no response. She smiled silkily at him, and walked toward him, making as though to move around behind him. Unwilling to have her out of sight, he turned with her movements.

Her smile twisted into a reproving look. She stepped close to him and reached out to smooth his hair. "I just wanted to help you make yourself presentable."

"I'm fine," he said, backing into the wall. She ran her fingers through his hair, combing it back out of his face. Then she straightened the collar of his jacket and looked at him approvingly. "You really are a handsome young man. Quite nice for your age, and I imagine you'll fill out beautifully as you mature." Adam shuddered. Being in the same room with her was too close. He certainly didn't want her touching him . . . or complimenting him.

She smiled at his unease, and place her free hand flat on his chest, stroking his shirt under the leather band. "I miss –" Wanting her away from him, Adam hauled off and punched her in the jaw. She stumbled backward, landing on her derriere, and Adam launched himself toward the door, yanking on the handle. It was locked and wouldn't budge. He whirled to find her staring up at him, hand clutched to her chin.

"You really are a foolish boy," she exclaimed, using her staff to help her to her feet.

"Sorry," Adam said sarcastically. "People keep telling me not to antagonize my captors, but it just doesn't come naturally."

She let out an amused laugh, and Adam glared at her. "I could kidnap you periodically so you can work on that, if you like."

He blinked at her incredulously. "Gee, thanks, that's considerate of you, but – NO!"

Raising her eyebrows, she leveled her staff at him. "Emphatic, aren't we, boy?" He glared defiantly at her, pleased to see that her jaw was turning red and swelling. "Now, do I have to put you on a leash, or will you come along quietly?"

"You're just as sick as your stupid apprentice, you know?" he said without thinking.

"Am I?" she asked with a dangerous glint in her eye.

"So, did you teach him how to be a human branding iron?"

"Branding iron? Oh, you mean the burns." She shook her head, still not lowering the staff. Adam was pleased by the thought that he had alarmed her. "No, that's not one of mine. He knew that when he came here. I don't believe that punishments should leave scars."

"That's reassuring, especially given who you work for. We are talking about the man who threw magical acid at my father."

She shrugged. "That's Skeletor. But that's enough chatter." A blast of power from her staff hit him and he slammed back against the door. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back. Or do you want me to knock you unconscious?"

Irritated, but not wanting to be unconscious in front of her again, he turned around and did as he was told. Power surged around his hands, coalescing as some kind of restraint. As soon as his hands were bound, he turned back to face her, only to find her far closer than he expected. He slid sideways, trying to get to a point where he could move away from the wall, but she followed him. He wound up in a corner with her inches away from him. She put her right hand on his face and stroked his cheek.

"I'm glad we didn't kill you. You are really quite decorative, Adam darling. Have you ever considered an older woman?" He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She was smiling at him mockingly. "I could just hang you on my wall. Perhaps I should make a collection of all the handsome men of the Eternian court, and display them like tapestries around my bedchamber."

"I guess we'd make good insulation," Adam said anemically. He was not prepared for her reaction. She laughed so hard that she seemed to lose her balance slightly and leaned aginst him pressing her forehead against his. He tried to cringe back, but he was already as far back as he could go.

Finally, she stood up straight and backed off again. "I begin to see why Duncan is so charmed by you." Adam was perplexed. What could she possibly mean? "Which reminds me, you have an appointment with that worthy gentleman. Come along, or I will leash you." She took his arm and led him out of the cell. This was bizarre. Since when did Evil-Lyn talk about Duncan as if she knew him? What had been happening here?

* * *

Duncan watched the events unfold in the image Evil-Lyn had left for him. She was really trying to make sure he knew just how far she was willing to go, and it was working. When she backed Adam into the corner, he was terribly afraid she was going to kiss him. Adam was so very young, so innocent. Randor kept saying he was sweet-natured, and no matter how much it irritated Adam to be thought of that way, it was true.

When the image dissipated, Duncan knew that they would be arriving shortly. Evil-Lyn had explained the procedure he was to follow that morning, and had dressed him carefully. He was wearing black leather pants and a silk shirt of the deep crimson she seemed to favor for him. His hair hung loose about his face, which made him feel ridiculous, and he wore shiny black leather boots, the first shoes he'd worn since he'd arrived here. There was no trace of a leash or chains or any sign of restraint. Adam was to be persuaded that Duncan had changed his allegiance. He didn't bother explaining to her that he knew Adam would never believe it. Even if he bought that Duncan _thought_ he wanted to stay, he'd assume it was a spell.

The door opened and Evil-Lyn shoved Adam inside. Duncan looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. Adam ran forward a few steps, then stopped as the ambience struck him. "Duncan?" he said in a confused voice.

"Adam, hello," Duncan said casually, watching Adam's face turn from worry to bewilderment. "What are you doing here? I'm sure your father's worried sick."

Adam opened his mouth but didn't speak for several seconds. Finally, he said, "I guess. Duncan, what's going on?" Evil-Lyn walked over at that moment and sat on the arm of his chair, draping her arm across his shoulders. Adam's eyes widened, and his eyes darted to Duncan's face.

Duncan could almost hear Evil-Lyn's instructions. _Be convincing_. He glanced up at Evil-Lyn and smiled, taking her hand in his. "Isn't it obvious, Adam?"

The boy shook his head, his face a study in perpexity. "No. Maybe you'd better explain it to me."

Duncan sighed. Adam would be difficult. "I've discovered that I have strong feelings for Evil-Lyn, and that Lyn returns those feelings. Teela is almost an adult now, she'll be fine without me. Your father doesn't really need me, and so I've decided to stay here."

"What? But, Duncan, that's crazy! Besides, I need you. And you're wrong about Teela. She needs you, too."

"You're both close enough to maturity that you need to break your dependence on me anyway." He stroked the back of Evil-Lyn's hand with his thumb. "I need to do something for myself." Adam just gaped at him. "Now, I've persuaded Lyn to send you home, so you're going to go like a good boy. And apologize to your father for worrying him."

"But Duncan, you can't! This is –"

"Adam, do as I say for once." The anger in his voice was unfeigned. He needed Adam out of here, and soon. "Go home. I'm not coming with you."

Adam stared at him for a long minute, his eyes wide with worry and concern. Duncan wanted to pat him on the shoulder, but with Evil-Lyn beside him, stroking his arm, he thought he had better not. What this must look like to the boy, Duncan didn't want to consider. But once Adam was back home, he'd be able to go and tell Randor that something distinctly odd was going on.

And that Duncan himself was still alive and somewhat sane.

Adam clapped his mouth shut and gave him a look through narrowed eyes. "Well, fine, then," he said in petulant tones. Duncan thought it sounded a little forced, but he couldn't be sure. He hoped Evil-Lyn didn't notice anything. "Can I at least have my sword back?"

Duncan blinked. His mind must be asleep. That was a solution he hadn't even considered. Taking care not to change expression unduly, he glanced up at Evil-Lyn. "That seems fair. Lyn, what do you think?"

Evil-Lyn shook her head. "Skeletor would miss it, and I don't want to have to explain where it went. Sorry, boy, you'll have to do without your sword."

Adam's eyes locked with his for a moment and Duncan gave a small shrug. "I see your point, my dear," Duncan said, stroking her hand again. Adam looked vaguely sick at the caress and the sound of the endearment. "Maybe I can work something out later."

"So, what should I tell Teela?" Adam asked.

Duncan took a deep breath as his emotions threatened his mask. "Tell her I love her, and I will miss her, but that here is the place for me now." Evil-Lyn's nails dug in slightly, warningly, as he spoke, but she relaxed when he added, "Here with Lyn."

"_Evil_-Lyn," Adam said, glaring at her. "Fine. I'll tell Teela, and I'll tell my father."

"Good. Lyn, take him home."

Evil-Lyn gave him a pleased look under her lashes. "Certainly, lover." Duncan managed not to flinch at that loathed nickname. Adam, however, looked queasy. Evil-Lyn stood, then bent to kiss him.

Duncan shook his head. "Not in front of the boy, Lyn, you'll embarrass him." Duncan kept his eyes on her, not daring to look at Adam, not sure he wanted to see the boy's reaction.

Evil-Lyn raised an eyebrow at him, glanced at Adam, then shrugged and took Adam's arm. "I'll be back soon." Raising her staff, she spoke a few words and they winked out. As soon as they were gone, the image came back, and he could see them appearing on the plain near the palace.

* * *

When Adam opened his eyes, he could see the palace a little ways off. He turned and glared at Evil-Lyn. "Are you really sending me home?" he demanded.

"Yes, Prince Adam. Duncan insisted."

"What did you do to him? What kind of love spell do you have on him?"

"No love spell, my prince," she said, tweaking his nose. Adam took a step back and she smiled at him. "Why would I force what he will give freely?"

Adam glared at her. There was no way Duncan was himself back there. _Lover?_ He shuddered. Evil-Lyn seemed to be scrutinizing the sky. "What are you looking for?" he asked.

"That." She pointed her staff up at a wind raider that had come into view, firing off a bolt of energy next to it. When Adam realized what she was doing, he threw himself at her, tackling her to the ground. He looked up to see if she'd hit them, but the raider veered sharply, then zoomed down for a better view.

Evil-Lyn shoved him off and stood up. "And there's my cue to leave." She waved her staff and vanished from sight, leaving Adam's arms still bound behind him. The wind raider landed a few moments later and Teela emerged, running over to him.

"What happened?" she demanded. "We've been looking everywhere." Adam looked into Teela's worried eyes and wondered just how he was going to explain this to her.

"I need to talk to my father first," he said, temporizing. Teela, the competent soldier, the rule follower, nodded once and start to untie his hands. She exclaimed in alarm and disgust as the bindings fell away into a cold mist. He climbed into the wind raider with her and resisted Mekanek and Ram-Man's questions.

Maybe his father would know how to tell Teela.

* * *

Duncan watched, sighing with relief as the wind raider took off with Adam and Teela aboard. He was safe, she was safe, and he was heading back to tell Randor. Evil-Lyn appeared suddenly beside him and he looked up at her, unable to frame any kind of comment.

"That went well, don't you think?" Evil-Lyn said.

Duncan snorted, suddenly understanding the desire to laugh like a maniac. Shaking his head, stifling the hysterical laughter that would overwhelm him if he let it out, he said, "I suppose it's time for work, now."

"Unfortunately." He stood up and waited for her. She walked over to him and stroked his upper arm. "I wanted to reward you for your excellent performance. I almost believed it myself."

"Evil-Lyn, I –"

She put a finger to his lips. "I liked you calling me Lyn." He blinked at her. "But only when we're alone." He shook his head helplessly. She leaned up and kissed him on the lips. "Come along, lover. The sooner we get you to work, the sooner we can come back." A whoosh of energy transformed his garb back to something approximately his own clothes, and his hair was back out of his face again. He wished she'd give him some warning before changing his garments. She tugged on the newly attached leash and he followed her, trying not to feel like a well-trained hound.

* * *

When Adam walked into his father's office, his father siezed him by the arms and hugged him fiercely. Then he pushed him away and glared down at him. "What did you think you were doing?" he demanded. "And where's Orko?" His mother hovered hehind the king, looking both anxious and furious.

"Orko?" Adam asked. "But, I left him – he was supposed to come back and tell you what happened to me."

Marlena pushed her husband aside and hugged her son. "Orko hasn't been seen since you left, Adam," she said.

Randor looked up at Teela and the masters who'd come into the office with Adam. "Go, look for him." Teela nodded, throwing a glance Adam's direction and left the office. Adam found himself staring at the floor. If something had happened to Orko – if he were hurt or – or worse, it would be his fault. His mother lifted his chin and looked worriedly into his eyes. He tried smiling at her, but he couldn't.

"Adam, what happened to you?" his father demanded, pulling Adam out of his guilt. "And do you know what happened to Orko?"

"No, Father. He was fine when I last saw him."

"Adam, what happened? How were you taken again?"

"It's kind of hard to explain," Adam said, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

"Adam, I need to know precisely how you came to be missing."

"Tell your father what happened, dear," his mother said, putting her hand on his cheek.

"Um. . ." Adam glanced around the room. Stratos was here, and so was Sy-Klone. "I need to talk to you by yourself – in your study preferably." Randor stood straighter, his eyes going dark with worry. The study was the one room in the palace where the king was never interrupted, and people didn't ask to go there for business lightly.

Randor nodded sharply and turned back to the masters. "See if you can help the others locate Orko, we'll continue this later."

Once they were in his father's study and his parents were looking expectantly at him, Adam found he didn't know where to begin.

"Now, Adam. You must tell me what happened."

Adam looked at the floor again. "It's difficult – I – you see, I thought –"

"Adam?" his father said in a very deep, angry voice. "Did you leave the palace voluntarily?"

Adam looked into his father's face. "Yes. I got Orko to help me." Randor eyes flashed angrily, and he gestured for him to go on. "We went to Snake Mountain, where Orko cast a spell that made me look like Tri-Klops. I figured I could sneak inside, find Duncan, and no one would question it if Tri-Klops took him somewhere."

His father's expression softened slightly, from anger to mingled pride, worry and exasperation. "You took a a terrible risk, son. Did you get caught?" Adam opened his mouth but couldn't find words. This part seemed somehow unimportant, but his father wasn't going to let him tell him about Duncan until he'd finshed telling him how he got caught. "The call letting us know they'd found you said there was a blast of magical energy that drew their attention to you."

Sighing, Adam nodded. "I guess Evil-Lyn could see through the illusion. She caught me late last night. I think I was really close to where Duncan was. If it wasn't for Evil-Lyn, it might have worked."

"We'll leave a discussion of the merits of your plan for a later date, Adam," his father said dismissively. "What happened? How did you get away?"

Adam walked over to the window and sat down on the sill. "That's the weird part. Father, I saw Duncan." Randor's eyes widened. "I actually talked to him. It was really strange. Evil-Lyn put me in a cell last night and left me there – she didn't really do anything to me, just scared me a little, right?" His father nodded. "So then, this morning, she came in and – and she started – I think she was – I don't know, she was acting like some of the court girls do. 'Oh how handsome you are, Prince Adam,' you know."

His mother took his father's hand suddenly, and Adam hated to see her so worried. "What did she do?" Randor demanded, squeezing her hand.

"It wasn't anything, really," Adam hastened to say, trying to calm their alarm. "She just leaned in real close, asked me if I'd ever thought about older women, and called me 'decorative.'" Adam shuddered. "Really, that wasn't the strange part."

Raising his eyebrows, the king said, "That _wasn't_ the strange part?"

"No. It was Duncan. She took me to a bedroom, I think it was her bedroom –" His father got up abruptly, releasing his mother's hand and turning away. His mother made a strange little sound and rushed over to him, putting her hand beneath his chin.

"What happened, Adam? What did she do?"

Adam shook his head. "No, it – she didn't do anything. Duncan was there, sitting in a chair, acting like he wanted to be there."

His father turned back, thunderstruck. "What? That's impossible."

"That's what I thought," Adam said. His mother was still kneeling in front of him, and he looked down at her, then up at his father. "Let me finish, please." His mother rose and stepped back, taking his father's hand. The king gestured for Adam to go on. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Adam bit his lip. "He told me that he had _feelings_ for Evil-Lyn, only he called her Lyn. She was leaning on him, stroking his arm and he took her hand." Randor's eyes widened, and Adam could see that his father was deeply disturbed by this news. "He told me that he was going to stay with her, that Teela was old enough to do without him, that you didn't really need him – it was crazy stuff he was saying!"

"What has she done to him?" Randor asked quietly, his eyes distant.

"I don't know, but she called him 'lover.'" Adam saw his father's shudder of revulsion. His mother took Adam's hand and squeezed, looking troubled. "And she tried to kiss him, but he said it would embarrass me. I asked her what kind of spell she'd put on him and she said that she didn't have to force what he gave willingly." Adam shook his head. "Either he's under some kind of spell or he's lost his mind. We have got to get him out of there."

Randor nodded. "I've got something in the works, Adam, that you nearly scuttled with your heroics. Though the intelligence – but, wait! You still haven't explained how you got away."

"I didn't," Adam admitted in a small voice.

"What?"

"Evil-Lyn let me go. She said Duncan insisted. He told me to go home and apologize for worrying you. It was really weird. It was like he was him, and then like he wasn't."

His father came and stood behind his mother, looking down at Adam. "She let you go? But she fired on the wind raider."

"I don't get it, Father. It doesn't make any sense."

The king looked perturbed. "All right. Now, go to Dorgan and let him check you over. Your mother will accompany you. I need to –"

Orko came zooming in through the window and flew right up to the king. "Your highness, your highness! Evil-Lyn – Adam – Snake Mountain –"

"I'm all right, Orko," Adam said, and the Trollan whirled.

"Adam! You're safe! Evil-Lyn found me and she cast a spell on me. I only just woke up. How long has it been?"

"Only overnight, Orko," Randor said. "Adam, go with your mother. I need to have a talk with Orko."

Adam gave Orko a sympathetic look. It was his fault that Orko was going to get yelled at, too. But it could have worked. Even if he couldn't have gotten Duncan, he could have found his sword. He was sure of it. He left the study with his mother and submitted to yet another examination by the healer.

What was wrong with Duncan, though? He'd mentioned the Power Sword, and he could swear that Duncan wanted him to have it. The look on his face when he'd said that something 'could be arranged' made Adam wonder what Man-At-Arms was up to. He wanted his sword, and he wanted to get rid of everyone at Snake Mountain. Dorgan commented on his sour expression and Adam just sighed.

"I'm fine, Dorgan, just depressed."


End file.
